A Flower's Resilience
by NightlySnow
Summary: In the strict hierarchical society of Alphas and Omegas, it is impossible for omegas to not bow to the wills of their alphas. What happens when Gilbert falls in love with an Omega who is intent on changing that? Omegaverse, Mpreg, UKUS, PruHun, Spamano, Franada, and other pairings.
1. Pink Flower Petals

Right then, so I am a _huge_ Omega!verse fan. I apologize, for those of you who don't particularly care for it. Um, I don't really know what I like about it, so please don't ask. I was also struck with a sudden love for PruHun today, so I figured, ah, why the hell not write a PruHun Omega!verse multi-chapter fic with other ships that I love in it? Yeah. Logic.

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Hetalia stuffs, though I would love to. I don't own any of these characters, franchises, or concepts you may recognize (thank you LeviosaLove for that fabulous disclaimer)._

So, here you are, the ramblings of someone who probably shouldn't be up this late with end of year exams tomorrow. But whatever. Enjoy!

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**A Flower's Resilience**

_"But he who dares not grasp the thorn _  
_Should never crave the rose." _  
― **Anne Brontë**

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Gilbert had always been a rather cocky alpha. He wouldn't admit it, but every single one of his friends would agree without a moment's hesitation. Then again, when you go around crowing about how awesome you are, there really isn't much room to claim humility. Perhaps this arrogance was what got him into the situation in the first place.

It had been a regular day at his high school, the start of his junior year to be precise. Omegas and Alphas had been filtered into separate classes, though few omegas actually showed at school anymore anyway. This was either because they'd decided that their studies weren't important enough to pursue, seeing as they were just going to be child-bearers for their alphas, or because they were already pregnant. That being said, there were always the omegas that made it their business to do well in high school, even though few colleges were made available to them, seeing as their natures were not to pursue an academic, or even a successful career.

Gilbert was raised on the beliefs that an Omega didn't belong in college. They could graduate high school, but then they should settle down immediately afterwards, to have children and please their alphas; to raise families and be the homebodies.

This was a conviction that had been hammered into him ever since he had been made aware of his own status as an Alpha. It was then that he was taught how to properly care for an Omega, and the basics. He was taught how an alpha should act, what was expected of him or her, and so on and so forth.

It was tedious, to learn the ways of Alphas, but he knew that he should count himself lucky. He was his father's first child, and the man was rather obviously puffed with pride at having had an alpha as his first son. Not that that was mentioned to many other men and women. Their family was a reserved one, quiet in their manners and they all had blond hair and blue eyes, except for Gilbert.

A little boy had been born not long after Gil, but he hadn't survived. He'd been an Alpha as well, but no one would tell Gil what had become of him, or even his name. He hadn't been given one, as that was generally left to the Alpha to name his or her Alpha children, but his father had never really gotten around to it, having been out on some important business trip at the time of his second son's birth. So his mother had done all she could to contact her mate, but he wasn't answering. She'd eventually given up in despair and resigned herself to calling her little son _Kleine, _or little one. Father hadn't made it back in time to name his son before the boy's untimely demise. Alfher, his father, was rather upset at this turn of events, and Gilbert didn't see his mother or his father for some time after that. The death affected the family for as many weeks as it took for his mother, named Amelina, to conceive again, and it still haunted them to this day.

This third time around, his father was there for the entire process, from gestation to birth, and was quick to name the next Alpha child born into their family. The youngest boy, with hair cornflower yellow and eyes a piercing blue, was called Ludwig. He took after Alfher in almost every way, and he had a little of his mother in his quiet, absorbing manner. Ludwig could rarely be taken by surprise, and he showed a surprising amount of care for those that he held close to him.

Gilbert was the black sheep of the family, with his loud, boisterous, and oftentimes rude personality. He had ice white hair, and blood red eyes. Many, at first, thought he was an abomination, something to be hidden from the world. But his father refused to accept such a judgement, and he quickly ensured that Gilbert would be able to defend himself against anyone who tried to harm him, teaching the boy how to handle weapons as soon as his basic motor skills developed and he could use his hands for something other than teething- fighting.

Amelina would always watch in concern, her own lighter yellow locks framing her thin, delicate face. She was the perfect omega, quiet, demure, and unobtrusive. She never asked questions, and was always ready to help her family of alphas. Gilbert and Ludwig could never have asked for a better mother.

So when Gilbert arrived at school his junior year, he had already established himself as a relatively powerful alpha. People respected him, some even revered him, and even a tiny few feared him. Ludwig resented him, really, for scaring the Italian omega, Feliciano Vargas.

Gilbert's best friends were a Frenchman and a Spaniard. They were a motley bunch, but they were all alphas, and all equally mischievous.

Francis Bonnefoy, with his shoulder-length blond hair and gleaming sapphire eyes, was probably the most levelheaded of the group. Those eyes could enchant any poor omega or beta into a relationship that would more often than not last a total of one hour. Francis had a quite a bit of a reputation, and many parents were sure to keep their omega children far from his wandering eyes and equally roaming hands.

Antonio Carriedo had jade green eyes, and hair the color of chocolate, with skin a shade darker than Francis's. He was of a cheerful disposition, always laughing and jesting, and taking any insults that were poked his way with a breezy wave of his hand. But, despite Antonio's unphasable demeanor, Gilbert knew better. He was one of only two people who'd managed to piss the Spaniard off, and he would never make that mistake twice. He'd done something quite stupid in making fun of a certain Lovino Vargas, and Antonio had made sure that he had a shattered arm and a couple of broken ribs to keep him from trying to laugh at the indignant Italian ever again.

Despite the trio's differences, they always got on surprisingly well. Their personalities balanced out; Gilbert's craziness, Antonio's generally easy-going personality, and Francis's rather logical and calculating one, even if the Frenchman's calculations weren't always for the greater good of whichever omega or beta he was preying on that day.

It was Francis who first noticed her, the new girl, but it was Gilbert who recognized her.

It was Elizaveta, the Hungarian girl he used to know rather well when he was younger until her parents had decided that she had had enough interaction with an alpha and moved to a different part of the school district. She was an omega, after all, and was not acting like it.

That had been the last he'd seen of the fierce girl.

Needless to say, she had certainly changed, judging from the waterfall of shining brown hair that glossed down her back, the cluster of pink flowers resting in the alley that her ear made between her head and its shell. Those familiar green eyes seemed to catch the light at every angle, each ray dancing in their depths and capturing Gilbert's own red eyes in their revelry. That same green was reflected in the button-down shirt she wore, something made of a light fabric that seemed to just float over her shoulders and torso, and was tucked enough into her skirt to not be too tight against her body. Her skirt was long, brushing down to her ankles, as all skirts or pants worn by omegas should be. It was midnight black, and it seemed to settle nicely on her hips before sliding down the rest of her body, not sticking, but twisting about her with every turn or movement she made, outlining the new curves that his childhood friend had developed. It was mesmerizing to watch, and he barely noticed the black flats she wore to match the skirt.

It was Francis's obnoxious chuckling that had him snapping out of this assessment of his childhood friend. Forehead furrowing in annoyance, he growled over at the grinning blond, who winked all too knowingly at him.

"Somebody's been struck by cupid's arrow, hm?" asked his friend, ever the dramatic one, slinging an arm around his shoulder and leaning his head in close next to Gilbert's.

"Quite forgivable, one can hardly blame you. She certainly is a beautiful omega," he purred, "_une belle fille._"

For some reason, Francis's assessment of Elizaveta had Gilbert shrugging his friend's arm off of his shoulders and glaring daggers at him.

"Don't touch her," he found himself warning the other man, before gathering his stuff and heading off to his first class of the day. He was shaken, and obviously had no clue what to do about this newest of situations. One thing was for sure, Elizaveta was going to be a catch, and he had to make sure that he was the one to get her.

Once he'd entered the classroom, he had none other than the oh-so-pleasant Arthur Kirkland to deal with. The man's bushy eyebrows furrowed the minute he made eye contact with the other alpha and he managed a rather vicious smile in the white-haired man's direction. Unfortunately for Gilbert, Arthur's eyes were almost the same hue as Elizaveta's; a striking, commanding green.

Clearing his throat, Gilbert managed an equally feral smile back at Arthur before taking his normal seat next to Antonio. The Spaniard was prattling off about Lovino and how cute the cranky, ineffable Italian was. Gilbert tuned him out relatively easily, not really being in the mood to hear about the omega that Antonio was obsessed with. His own mind was jumping from topic to topic, from Elizaveta's reappearance in his life, to Arthur's odd behavior this morning, to the threat of Francis's conniving ways looming over his concerns for Elizaveta.

The bell rang, Francis wheeled in with a stain of lipstick pressing like a flower petal against his lips, and the class began. The teacher, who was a graying man with a rather boring, toneless voice began to teach the class, pointing to the whiteboard with a stick. It seemed that the lesson of the day would be about businesses, and how to create and maintain your own. Gilbert chose to tune out for that, not considering it terribly important to know something that should come naturally for most Alphas.

His attention focused on Arthur in that moment, having exhausted most of his thoughts on Elizaveta to an extent that it pained him to continue thinking about her. He noticed the stiff set to Arthur's shoulders, the continuous tapping of his pencil on the wooden desk that he sat at. How odd, to have the normal collected, calm, stoic Arthur so... well, agitated.

Gilbert pondered what could be the cause of the Brit's antsiness only to come to the realization that Alfred had not showed up to school that morning. A slow smirk spread across his face, his red eyes gleaming with a dangerous light, like the red siren on a police car. Alfred must be in heat, then. What a shame, poor Arthur, ever the protective alpha was unable to stay with the omega that he was so obviously interested, but forbidden to take as his mate until both of them graduated high school.

It was an odd rule for parents to place, especially in this day and age of omegas that were really only good for raising babies, but each family had its own traditions. As it was, Alfred's family had two omegas, twins, and they were intent on making sure that both of their boys had a proper education in case they needed to make a life of their own. Another interesting fact concerning that family was that they kept their children at different schools. Gilbert and his friends had yet to meet Alfred's younger twin brother, Matthew. He knew Francis was more than a little curious-the Frenchman had been interested in Alfred at first before being effectively chased away by Arthur.

And so the day passed, with Gilbert going from class to class, his mind flitting from student to student and their relationships. He knew it was all just a distraction, anything to keep his mind off of the alluring Elizaveta Héderváry. Incidentally, he did update himself on all of the ongoing lives of almost every student of the school. The Danish boy named Mathias was rather resiliently lavishing attention on a very reluctant Norwegian named Lukas. It was cute, in a way, how Mathias was so determined, and Lukas so reluctant, though it was fairly obvious that the reserved boy liked the attention from the boisterous Alpha.

And of course, there was the beta pairings that fit in the odd mess of cultures that was Gakuen High. Feliks, a blond haired, green eyed Pole, and Toris, a Lithuanian with mousy brown hair, soft green eyes, and an incredibly nervous and indirect way about him, were the most well known. The two were equal in every way, and it was a nice enough relationship, though Gilbert could see no chemistry between them.

And last, but not least, there was his own brother's relationship with a certain Feliciano Vargas. The two were tied at the hip ever since they met in Freshman year of High School, and to be honest, Gilbert found Feliciano to be a very annoying, useless, chattery little thing. He never seemed to know when to stop talking, or even how to be intelligent at all. But Ludwig was very fond of the bright-eyed, peppy, annoying ball of energy, and so it looked as if Gilbert was going to have to be welcoming Feliciano into the family sooner than he would like. It was only Ludwig's Sophomore year, but it was rather obvious that the two were going to be mates. Everyone knew it, even the teachers. So, Alfher and Amelina met with Feliciano's parents and everything was confirmed and arranged. No bad feelings would be held when Ludwig mated with Feliciano at the boy's first heat. Gilbert dreaded the event with every fiber of his being.

He was torn from his musings as the omegas entered the cafeteria, having been released from their classes at long last. They had most likely been the ones who prepared the meal as well. It was important that they learn how to cook, so that they could take care of their future families and mates.

Seemingly without his permission, Gilbert's eyes began to seek out the bright pink flowers that he'd begun to associate with Elizaveta. Sure enough, he found their delicate forms bobbing amongst the sea of other heads that trailed their way through the doors. Alphas were jumping up to either hug their mate close or tug the omega they were interested in over to themselves. Antonio, as was his way, was trying to get Lovino to join him for lunch.

"Mon ami," breathed Francis next to Gilbert's ear, "you should go talk to her. She won't come here unless you ask her to," he advised before scanning the cafeteria to find an impressionable young omega to take under his wing for the meal.

Gilbert steeled his resolve, knowing that Francis had a point. If he wanted to claim Elizaveta as his, he had to reintroduce himself first. Taking a deep breath, the nervous Alpha rose and moved over to where Elizaveta was waiting for her food to be served to her.

He could not screw this up.

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Whoo! First chapter done. I'm kind of excited for this, I'll be honest. I've always looked for a PruHun omegaverse, but have never been able to find a really good one. So I figured I try to my hand at writing it. I don't know. Things will certainly pick up in the next chapter, which I will try to get out in the next couple of days. Don't expect too much of me, though. I'm a procrastinator at my worst.

Have a lovely week, lovelies!

_Beta-ed by the awesome LeviosaLove._


	2. Calculated Words

I'm back! As promised, within the span of a few days. Now this chapter is going to have _way_ more PruHun action going on. I promise we'll get into the other ships soon as well, I'm just trying to figure out what I want to do with Gilbert and Elizaveta's relationship before delving into other ones. I still need Francis and Matthew to meet, after all. x3 Anywho! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Hetalia Franchise. As much as I would love to, I do not._

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**Calculated Words**

_"__We've begun to raise daughters more like sons... but few have the courage to raise our sons more like our daughters."_

**_―_Gloria Steinem**

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By the time Gilbert reached Elizaveta, she had already gotten her lunch and appeared to be looking for a place to sit. Scrubbing his sweaty palms on his pants one last time, he strode forward.

"Elizaveta!" called the junior, a grin springing to his lips as he noticed her jump. She wouldn't know he went to school here; where she was concerned, no one here knew her by name.

When those lovely emerald eyes landed on his ruby ones, Gilbert slowed and beckoned for Elizaveta to come closer to him. It was not the place of an Alpha who hadn't announced his intentions to go and grab a hapless Omega. He had to ask the Omega to approach him after he'd done the first movement. Elizaveta eyed him wearily, but there was an obvious light of recognition in her eyes.

"Gilbert?" she asked hesitantly, moving her feet forward with a deliberateness that had Gilbert raising one snowy white eyebrow.

"The one and only," He replied smoothily, shooting her his normal lazy smirk. She scoffed in return.

"What do you want, then, Gil?" her voice was unsure still. He was fairly aware of the fact that she was not the same as she'd been when she was younger. This girl was different, nervous and anxious-utterly changed. She no longer had the headstrong belligerence of the child he'd had mud fights with and who had kicked him in the stomach over who got the last cookie. Elizaveta was an omega, and there was no way he could deny it any longer. Not that he'd want to; she made for one attractive mate if he could manage to attain her.

After this brief assessment of Elizaveta's seemingly changed attitude, Gilbert decided to respond to her. "I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind sitting with my friends and me," he stated, forcing himself to not pose the sentence as a question. Alphas had to be demanding, and commanding; that was the only way to establish their dominance, anyway.

Something flickered behind Elizaveta's eyes, something akin to annoyance, but she quickly quelled it. "I don't suppose I really have a choice, do I?" she asked with a world-weary sigh.

"Now why would you want to say 'no' to the awesome me?" asked Gilbert with a confident chortle. "Come on, my friends are this way," he said, not really giving her a chance to respond. He swept the lunch tray from the Hungarian's hands and began to push her forward with his hand pressing into the small of her back.

As soon as the two reached the lunch table, he slid into his normal seat and patted the spot next to him. He was nervous, waiting to see what Elizaveta would do.

Elizaveta took the seat.

The minute she sat down, Gilbert slid her lunch tray in front of her and resumed eating his own lunch, watching with a detached interest as Antonio finally managed to wrangle Lovino over to their lunch table. The omega sat down with a huff, though it was not next to the Alpha who so clearly longed for him. Antonio's crestfallen face inspired a snort of amusement from Elizaveta, a noise that took both Gilbert and his Spaniard friend by surprise. He knew that Antonio was only surprised that Elizaveta was sitting with them in the first place, but Gilbert himself was rather shocked at the loud laugh that Elizaveta had emitted.

Elizaveta's eyes caught their surprised expressions and she immediately returned her gaze back to her food, though the smile never left her lips.

Lovino was sitting moodily in his chosen chair, stabbing angrily at the decadent heap of noodles that sat before him. The faint buzz of angry Italian chattered over the table, playing about the otherwise quiet space.

Francis eventually took his customary seat next to Gilbert, gesturing for the lovely Omega he'd managed to woo to sit across from him. The Omega did so, ensuring that there was plenty of space between herself and Antonio before leaning forward to smile and blush and giggle hanging on Francis's every word, enamored with his smooth, gliding French accent.

The Omega was a freshman, and tiny. A purple ribbon was fixed in her hair, hanging limply against the strands of blonde hair cut so that they just reached her chin. She had large, innocent green eyes that seemed to absorb the world, and every single word uttered to her with a ravenous interest. Her pink dress was almost too humble, too modest. The sleeves ran down to her wrists, ending in pure white ruffles of starched looking fabric. The length of her dress followed much the same fashion, hitting her ankles and ending in a frill of foamy white, brushing the tops of solid black, clodding shoes. Gilbert just barely remembered that her name was Lili and she happened to have an extremely overprotective big brother named Basch before said older brother was pinning Francis' head to the smooth wooden surface of the lunch table.

Another noise escaped Elizaveta, though this one was more of surprise than amusement. Gilbert chose to ignore the scene, knowing that Lili would soon be leaving their presence, and that Francis would be bemoaning how poorly he was treated by the rest of the student populace within the next few minutes. He focused his attention on his lovely companion instead.

"Elizaveta, what have you been up to since I last saw you?" he asked her abruptly, not caring how out of the blue the question was.

"Oh, you know, school and growing up," she replied vaguely.

"Yeah? When did you find out you were an Omega?" he teased her, grinning at her suddenly flushed face. For the longest time, this stubborn girl next to him would insist that everyone eventually became an Alpha. You just developed the attributes as you grew up. Needless to say, it was this insistence that had her separated from Gilbert so quickly.

"That is none of your business!" she hissed suddenly, her old nature firing up like a firework flare, catching light, her words whistling out.

Gilbert was taken aback before he seemed to accept the challenge. "I actually think that it is my business, if you're going to be my mate one day," he said, disregarding all attempts at being polite. Elizaveta only seemed to grow redder.

"What makes you think that I don't already have a mate?" she snarled back, her knuckles on the hand that was gripping the fork were rapidly whitening. Gilbert was infuriating her, and challenging her, and it was honestly rather frustrating.

The white-haired Alpha's smug grin only widened.

"You'd have the scent on you," he replied smoothly, pushing his plate away from him. He was more interested in this turn of events than his food.

Omegas shouldn't act this way, that was why he disliked Lovino, because the Italian wasn't willing to submit to the obvious power of the Alpha. He would try to quell Elizaveta, or at least get her to respect him.

"Well, I don't know why you think that I would want to be your mate!" she snapped, pushing her own plate of food away. Something dangerous glinted behind those green eyes, something smooth and deadly as poison.

Gilbert growled lowly, taking note of the effect this had on the resilient Hungarian. She shivered, seemingly caught between her natural urge to submit and the stubbornness that held her up.

"Let me guess," said Gilbert, his tongue lazy, "You had your first heat, yes? Is that what it took? You, writhing on the bed, moaning and whimpering and practically begging for an Alpha to comfort you, to please you?" he asked her, his voice dropping to a lower octave, his red eyes piercing into their green counterparts and monitoring for the effect of his words. "The sheets tangled around your legs, that scent that can only ever be complimented by an Alpha's. Wouldn't it be nice to have an Alpha, a big, strong, dominant Alpha, to soothe you and claim you? To smother you in his scent and press his weight upon you?" he himself was beginning to get a reaction at the words, his mind having difficulty getting the idea of a naked Elizaveta, wriggling and twisting in a nest that she had created for herself, one simple sheet working its way around her sweating form, out of his head. And if he wasn't wrong, his words were having an effect on Eliza as well. She was panting, her eyes wide and her hand abandoning the fork to work open and closed.

They sat like that for a minute, neither breaking the other's gaze; a battle of will as much as a battle of hunger and desire and need. Who would break first?

At last, Elizaveta's eyes glared down at the linoleum floor of the cafeteria.

"You are a despicable person," she murmured, low and reluctant, but still not as angered as she had been earlier.

"I know," he responded slowly, "but I'm awesome, so it all works out." One of his hands reached out to touch the skin of Eliza's, the softness of her hand soothing to him in his sudden desire. It calmed him, but she quickly wrenched herself away.

"Leave me alone, you pig," she snapped, all the rage and fire back from earlier. It appeared that the earlier comment had been only a brief respite for the both of them, as she soon stood and left their little group, dumping her tray in the cafeteria trash bin before exiting.

A slow round of applause from Francis had Gilbert turning to glare at the Frenchman.

"The fuck do you want, Frenchie?" he snapped.

"That was the most brilliant display of willpower I have ever had the pleasure of seeing, Gilbert, truly. You have such a way with words," Francis swooned, sarcasm dripping from the syllables of every word.

"Mi amigo," said Antonio, "I do not think that was the way to go." He was deadly serious, completely unaware that Gilbert was more than mindful of that little fact.

Lovino just rolled his eyes, but he did move his chair closer to Antonio's. It appeared that the Spaniard's sudden seriousness had Lovino just a tad more willing to be in his presence.

"Dummkopf, as if I don't know that!" growled Gilbert in response, shoving back from the table and spinning angrily away from the table, his plate in hand. He'd honestly had enough of his idiotic friends for the day.

"I'm going to the weapons room," he muttered, beginning to stalk off before he paused. "Don't follow." A warning. And just like that, he was out of the cafeteria, the trash can still trembling from when he'd slammed his lunch into its metal shell.

However, when he wheeled into the weapons room, he was greeted with the sight of Elizaveta hacking away at a particularly unfortunate wooden dummy. The sword she was carrying was of Hungarian origin, with its curved blade and differently designed cross guard.

Gilbert leaned against the doorway, watching Elizaveta with an interest. The way she handled the sword told of years of expertise, its blade flicking and switching and practically licking at the immobile dummy, quick and precise in each movement. Gilbert had only seen a few people who could fight as well as her, and they were all Alphas. It was odd to see an Omega handle such a thing so expertly.

Striding silently into the room, he chose his traditional Prussian sword from the wall of weapons. It had a curve to its blade, but not so deep as Eliza's, and it obviously had a different crossguard, though this one was carved with the Prussia National Bird. It was a gorgeous sword, and perfectly balanced for Gilbert. Sliding along the wall over to Elizaveta, he chose a lull in her furious hacking to replace the dummy's position, pushing it hastily out of the way and sliding into its place. Elizaveta blinked in surprise as the ring of metal clashing into metal replaced the dull 'thunk' of a sword's edge burying itself into wood.

It took her all of two seconds to get over this surprise, however, and soon she was fighting against Gilbert. But their swordfight was almost like a dance. As much as Gilbert liked to brag about himself, he never really meant any of the things he said. He never bragged about his skill as a swordsman, though he was one of the best the academy had ever seen.

And so they worked against each other, each slither of blade on blade ringing like bells in the otherwise empty room. A sweat was beginning to paste their clothes to their backs and sides, and though Gilbert was reluctant to admit it, Elizaveta fought extremely well.

Their dance bled on, parrying and stroking and making extravagant and complicated designs with their bodies, swords switching hands. Everytime one or the other got within real striking distance, they'd stop the blade inches above the other's skin, to show that they could have cut that limb off.

They both seemed to stop in a silent agreement, the swords clattering to the floor, finally sliding from sweaty grips, and their owners collapsing next to the fallen arms.

"Where," a gasp of breath, "the fuck did you learn," another breath, "to fight like that?" asked Gilbert.

"There's something to be said," breath, "when your brothers are both alphas," another breath, "and they want to teach you how to," breath, "fight too."

Gilbert paused at that, a truly horrible and devious idea taking root in his brain.

"Your family could get arrested for that, you know," he said, after a moment of silence long enough for both of them to regain their full breathing capability. "Omegas aren't supposed to know how to fight, that's an alpha's job," he said, turning his head to see how Elizaveta was reacting to this. She had stilled, noticeably so. "If you're willing to agree to my courting you, than I may not turn your brothers and father in. If not, well, who knows what the consequences of your family's actions could be? After all, when I become your mate, I can't allow you to sword fight like that. It is such an un-omega thing to do." he said nonchalantly, sitting up and swiping his sweaty hair back from his forehead.

Elizaveta let out a strangled, angry grunt before Gilbert found himself pinned to the gym floor by the girl, his own sword held to his throat.

"You wouldn't dare," she hissed, anger glossing over her eyes. The flowers in her hair were sitting unobtrusively in a corner of the gym. It seemed that the minute the delicate things were removed from Eliza, she became a feral creature, totally combative of her immediate nature of submission and acceptance. Indeed, even the action of sitting above him was giving both of them a great amount of difficulty, as it was a very dominant gesture, and it didn't help that he was sweaty, and so both his alpha scent and pheromones were permeating the air.

They were at a standstill, no more words coming from Eliza. She was trying not to breathe, to avoid having to inhale Gilbert's addictive scent. But she was having difficulty, and soon, the sword fell from her grasp next to them, and she found herself leaning forward to press her nose to Gilbert's sweaty neck, inhaling his strong, deeply Alpha scent.

A shivered breath escaped both of them before Gilbert pushed the sword farther away from them and quickly switched their positions, rolling them so that he was hovering over Eliza. She clung to him, though, her nose still buried in his skin and little whines escaping her. Her arms had wound under his arms to brace against his back as she pulled her torso up against his, desperate for contact, and more of that delicious smell.

It seemed that nature was impossible to escape for both of them.

Gilbert buried his own nose in Elizaveta's neck, noticing not just her sweaty smell, but the light layer of preheat that was clinging to her form. It would be only another day or two and she'd be locked up in her room, whining, and begging, for an alpha to come and claim her as his.

A growl of possessiveness vibrated through Gilbert as he pressed himself down on top of the girl, not wanting just any other Alpha to claim her. He wanted to, and he'd be damned if he didn't make sure that other Alpha's were aware that they couldn't lay a single hand on her once she went into heat. So he began to work on coating her with his scent.

They were both still inhaling and breathing and bathing in the other's scent, but Gilbert was now pressing kisses to her sweaty skin, tasting the salt of her sweat on his lips. And then he was nibbling at the soft skin, satisfied with the low whimpers escaping her. She was going to be his, and he'd be damned if he let her escape him now.

He was struggling to keep himself from claiming her, from sinking his teeth into the skin of her shoulder, piercing the smooth, soft expanse. He already knew where he would place his mark, too, his tongue lapping at the area, teeth nibbling in a desperate attempt to avoid fully biting down. But it was proving increasingly difficult, and soon, he was beginning to sink his canines into that soft skin. Elizaveta inhaled suddenly, sharply; nervous. But she pressed further into him, not pulling away or pushing him off of her. She wanted this.

And then the weapons room doors busted open and students streamed in, all of them pausing as Gilbert and Eliza flew apart, the Omega clamping her hand over her bleeding neck, in an effort to quell the flow. She wasn't fully marked, but partially, so now Gilbert's smell clung to her, but it would wear off as his mark healed.

What scared Gilbert most was the expression on his younger brother's face. He was going to be in for it when he got home, seeing as Ludwig had this class, and that boy was a total rule follower. Gilbert should wait to claim Eliza until after their parents had discussed the relationship between the two and come to an agreement.

When he glanced back to Elizaveta, her expression was a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and longing. Once she met his eyes, she growled warningly, though it was weak, and altogether rather pathetic. And then, she was up and gone, only her aroused scent, and the whisper of his own aroma clinging to her letting him know that she'd fled.

* * *

The end! Bad ending, I know, but I wasn't sure what else to do. I'll upload in another couple days or something. I don't know.

I should probably explain how my particular omega!verse will be working.

**Alphas**

These guys are, obviously, the head figures. They can be male or female, doesn't matter. Obviously they're supposed to take the position of breadwinner of the family, and they are dominant, possessive, controlling, and used to getting whatever the hell they want. This tends to be the case with all alphas, though there are a few exceptions. They are taught how to sword fight, and how to use other weapons, because in this world, you can only really use weapons to injure other alphas. Omegas are easier to dispatch, but guns are rather useless. I know, medieval, but I feel like having this be a medieval world for now. They are also taught the areas of business, finance, and communications with other alphas/packs. Fun stuffs! They also have a scent that is simply impossible for Omegas to resist for very long, and especially when sweaty, because the scent is increased tenfold in its power. It's their job to resist marking Omegas, and to avoid Omegas-in-heat.

**Alpha's Claims**

When Alphas claim their mate, they tend to bite their shoulder, leaving a mark, and the permanent presence of their scent on the Omega's skin. There are different levels of biting, the first one is just a claiming thing. "This Omega is mine" and whatnot. There's a second bite that can be applied that will repel all other Alpha's away from that Omega. This is generally only used with an omega that is particularly flirty. The third one causes the Omega to be completely and utterly submissive to their Alpha, and it essentially takes the Omega's personality away. It's a cruel thing, to bite an Omega on the same bite mark for the third time.

**Betas**

These guys are the inbetweeners. They don't really have a special scent that is addicting to Alphas or Omegas. They can mate with either Alphas or Omegas, and they can certainly have children with them. They aren't as successful as Alphas, but they certainly have more rights than Omegas, and they generally have Betas when they have children, though an Omega or Alpha will occasionally come from a Beta/Alpha or Beta/Omega coupling, even from a Beta/Beta coupling every now and then, though this largely depends on whether or not there was an Alpha or Omega further back in one of the pairs family tree. Also, two male betas cannot have a child, nor can two female betas. Beta pairings can only have children if it is a male/female relationship. The same thing works for Beta/Omega and Beta/Alpha.

**Omegas**

They are, rather obviously, the bottom of the heap. They have the least amount of rights, and the least amount of expectations. They are taught to be demure, subservient, submissive, and to do whatever their Alphas ask of them. One of their greatest stresses is trying to have an Alpha as their first child. That's very important, because it shows of a strong bloodline. They can name their Omega children, but not their Alpha ones, and they are meant to be the homebodies. When their heats kick in, they build a nest in their rooms and are locked away from the world for the week it takes the heat to pass. If an Omega has a mate at this time, the mate spends all of that time with their Omega, mating them and taking care of their every need. If they don't have a mate, they have to find other ways of pleasuring and taking care of themselves. Generally, the Omega has their family to watch them, but if they don't have a mate by the time they're old enough to leave the house, they have to handle themselves all on their own. It's very rare for that to happen. No colleges are out there for Omegas. Only cooking and beauty schools, things that are not meant for a serious career. But Omegas do have the ability to call an Alpha to court if the Alpha attacked them while they were in heat, or if the Alpha touched them when the Omega rather obviously didn't want it. They can call it to court, but it's very rare when they win the case. Alphas have too much of an affect on the court system, being able to buy out some lawyers and judges if they so please.

**Government**

So, obviously, the government is controlled by Alphas, and a couple of Betas. Betas are mellower than Alphas, so its good to have at least a couple in each branch of the government. It's run similar to the fashion of the American Government, with three branches; The Executive, which has the President, or Head Alpha in this case, as its lead; The Judicial Branch, holds the Supreme Court. Commonly ruled by Betas because they are less likely to let anger and opinion rule their heads, this particularly branch dispenses justice and contains all of the courts in their country, from the lowest to the highest; The Legislative Branch has representatives from all of the bigger packs in the area for The Senate, and the smaller packs will tend to band together and select a representative amongst the five or six of them to take part in The Senate. The House of Representatives is the joining of all of the packs in one particular area to choose someone to go and represent them in that particular section of the Legislative Branch. The House of Representatives relies on pack numbers in a given area. Obviously this side of the government has high blood temperatures, as there is always the risk of the Alpha being more partial to his own pack than the others he is chosen for. But his or her selection is generally put up for a vote, and that is how they are chosen.

Omegas honestly have no say in the government. They are forbidden from learning how to fight or use weapons, and are barely given an education. The classes they are pulled out for contain embroidery, sewing, cooking, and other crafts useful to only those who would be working in a house for the rest of their lives. They are supposed to wear clothes that cover their legs completely, and have properly fitting shirts. They are a whole bunch of more rules that I don't feel like going into now and will be revealed at a later date.

Until then, darling readers! If you have any questions about the dynamics, please ask them. I'm sure they'd help clear up other questions that other people would have, and they may help me organize this whole thing more.


	3. The Curse of a Loose Tongue

I'm back! I hope that you all enjoy this chapter, I don't really even know what I was thinking when I wrote it. It's rather short, but meh. I loved y'all's reviews on the last chapter, and I'm really glad that you have enjoyed it thus far!

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Hetalia franchise._

* * *

**The Curse of a Loose Tongue**

_"Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead."  
_

**―Ben Franklin, Poor Richard's Almanack**

* * *

Gilbert wasn't entirely wrong in his assumption, because the very second that Elizaveta had fled the seen, the class was swarming around him, making obnoxious noises and giggling.

It only took a grand total of forty seconds before Gilbert was snarling and shoving the insolent pups away from him. They were all in Ludwig's class, so about a year or so younger than him.

And then, of course, there was Ludwig to deal with. His eyes held disapproval, an expression that took quite a surprising stab at Gilbert's conscience. He'd always been the bigger brother to Ludwig, the role model. But he'd disappointed his third brother, and he had a feeling that he wasn't going to live this particular indiscretion down.

Ludwig's mouth was pulled into a tight line, and he glared at Gilbert as the elder made his escape out of the gym. Those red eyes were flooded with desire, still, and his muscles were jumping. It was always difficult for an Alpha to come down off of almost claiming an Omega, though it was rare that they even got to the point of claiming one. Even if the two were being sexually intimate, it was unlikely the Omega would be claimed. A certain attraction was required, and the heat was generally necessary, though it wasn't entirely unheard of to claim an Omega outside of his or her heat, as Gilbert had almost done.

When he reached his class, he got the receiving look of knowledge that Francis generally held whenever someone was late to a class. The blond Frenchman would know, nine out of ten times he was the one who was late because of escapades with an Omega or Beta somewhere out in one of the numerous classrooms and broom closets of the school.

Gilbert huffily took his seat, and glared at the teacher, just daring the Beta Male to say something about his tardiness. Wisely, the man swallowed and just resumed his lesson, though his eyes kept flicking back to the angry albino shifting moodily and uncomfortably in the back row.

He was sitting next to Francis, who was more than eager to know what had gone on between Eliza and his Prussian friend.

A note slid onto his desk.

_Mon ami,_ it read, _I smell passion on your skin. Pray tell, what happened between yourself and the lovely Elizaveta?_

Gilbert would never understand how in hell Francis was able to fit so much on one measly little slice of paper, but he did know that it was always annoying to try and respond on the same sheet.

_Stay out of it, Franzose. _Was his response. He was not in the mood to talk about his near loss of control, nor his immediate frustration and anger at having not obtained what he'd wanted. He could still taste Elizaveta's skin, the sweet smell of her sweat and its conflicting salty taste. Her form still slid along the pads of his fingers, soft and supple, but lean with muscle that only sword fighting could give.

_Ah, you know me. It is impossible for moi to stay out of affairs considering l'amour._

Thoroughly exasperated, Gilbert, sketched down a messy, clearly frustrated scrawl and shoved it right back under the neighboring blond man's nose.

_I almost claimed her, you happy?_

An inhale of breath was his only response, silence, and then the furious scribbling of pen that was being pressed much too hard on a thin paper on top of a wooden desk.

_How did it feel? How did she taste? What was it like? Are you all right? You are incredibly stupid, you do know that, right, mon ami? You are dumb and tactless and totally lucky. Tu es un idiot._

Gilbert crumpled up the note in retort to Francis's nosiness and chucked it unerringly into the trashcan. The teacher rose an eyebrow at his insolence, to which he had at least the decency to give an apologetic shrug of his shoulders, but nothing more. He was still in an Alpha after all, and that meant that he was technically of a higher rank than the Beta attempting to teach them about sex.

Like they didn't already know.

As the clock crawled closer to the end of the period, Gilbert readied himself to escape. He hadn't brought anything to class with him, but he needed to rocket towards the door the second that bell lets out its piercing wail so that he could avoid the insatiable curiosity of one of his best friends. And it was going to have to take quite a burst of speed, because Francis was faster than him, unfairly so.

So when the bell peeled down the halls, splitting the doors open like orange slices, Gilbert made a break for it.

And he totally underestimated just how damned fast Francis was, because the minute he got out of his seat, he was being captured between two unforgiving sets of arms, both belonging to his best friends, and spirited off to their go to meeting place, a hidden room that could be found behind a pile of bricks by the outer wall of the school. Neither of them knew why no one else had discovered it just yet, but no one really questioned it.

So, as Gilbert was thrown inside of the room, none-too-gracefully either, he shot glares, eyes bright and haloed, at his friends, cursing himself for forgetting entirely about Antonio, who had evidently been sitting just in front of them. How else would Francis have been able to get a hold of the Spaniard?

"Spill," commanded his French friend, who was perching himself elegantly on top of a pile of bricks that had spilled into the room. Antonio chose to lean against the wall, arms crossed and green eyes strangely intense in the darker gloom.

Sighing, Gilbert resigned himself to his fate, and situated himself more comfortably on the patch of wooden floor that he'd been thrown on before beginning his tale.

By the time he'd finished telling what had happened, both Antonio's and Francis's eyes were wide and incensed.

"What are you going to do, Gil? She can't swordfight. That's against the law," said Francis, earnest and concerned, and at the same time, agitated.

"Francis is right," spoke Antonio, "we have to turn this in, Gilbert. She cannot fight with swords, that is an Alpha ability," and Gilbert promptly bristled in response.

"No! Don't you dare tell anyone, Antonio, or I swear, I will not hesitate to tell them about Lovino," a sharp growl ripped out of Antonio's throat at the threat, his eyes seeming to get clearer, and piercing.

"Very well, mi amigo," spat Antonio, "but do not think that I won't be watching her. If she does anything else that goes against the law, I will turn her family in," and with that, he whirled around, and slid out of the room, leaving the taste of anger and defensiveness curling through the air.

Francis let out a dramatic sigh. "Why must you always act that way around him? Antonio never means any harm. He is simply being honest, Gilbert. If the government finds out about her, they are going to find out that you didn't report it. They are going to find out that none of us reported it. Is it worth getting in trouble over?"

He left that question hanging in the air as he too left the little room, leaving Gilbert to think about what he'd just threatened Antonio with. Antonio, his friend. Groaning, Gilbert slammed his head back against the brick that he was leaning against. Of course he had to yell at one of his best friends over a stupid Omega.

Scrubbing his hands over his eyes, he made to rise before realizing that a pair of green eyes were peering in at him.

They blinked slowly before their owner moved further into the room, and Gilbert's heart fell. It wasn't Elizaveta. On the contrary, it was probably one of the last people he wanted to see at the moment.

Arthur Kirkland smiled at him from across the room, the light still illuminating one half of his body. Eventually, he slid the rest of the way in and occupied the seat that Francis had just vacated, though with a touch less grace.

"I can see the disappointment, Gilbert." He said finally, the British accent flavoring each word with propriety.

Gilbert narrowed his eyes at Arthur.

"I can understand that I might not be as attractive as a certain Miss Héderváry, but it would certainly be in your best interests to treat the person who can ruin Elizaveta's little life with a touch more kindness, wouldn't you agree?"

Gilbert had never really contemplated just how evil Arthur could be, but he understood his mistake now.

"Why would you threaten the awesome me?" he scoffed, shrugging on his falsely confident exterior as if it were a costume, and meeting Arthur's eyes with a savage defiance.

"Why would I threaten you? No reason, I just want to make sure that you are aware of the fact that I can threaten you, and I will not hesitate to do so." Arthur smiled, something confusing, because there wasn't all hatred, or violence, or malevolence in that smile. There was indecision, concern, and distraction there as well. And it intrigued Gilbert.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say, just get away from me," he said, trying to play things off as if he were disinterested.

Arthur watched him for a moment before leaving, the lines of tension in his shoulders visibly lessening as he stepped away from the room, something that did not pass Gilbert's observant gaze.

Not long after Arthur's entrance and consequent exit, Gilbert took his own leave. He'd missed the entirety of the last period of the day, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He was going to be more than in for it when he got home, and the last thing he really wanted to deal with was Coach Berwald, with that scary glare of his. He never did seem to be entirely capable of getting his thoughts across either, only grunting in acquiescence or disagreement to any number of the stupid questions Gilbert, Antonio, or Francis would ask.

And so, as the final school bell rang, and the other students washed in waves out of the doors, he began to pick through the crowd, searching for the brown haired Hungarian that he had been pinning to the weapons room floor not but two hours ago.

His nose picked her out first, that musk that he had been so close to and surrounded in; that scent that was now layered with a healthy band of his own smell, cloaking her in its folds and claiming her as his for the time being.

Smirking, he made his way through the crowd, moving closer to the oblivious Elizaveta. She was chatting obligingly to a black-haired, spectacled boy who had a rather prominent mole on his chin. A curl arced spectacularly away from his head, and Gilbert vaguely recognized him from when Francis had introduced him to the group of them. He was a Beta, and Austrian, and had lain with each member of the trio at one point or another. Gilbert would never acknowledge that he had messed with a male Beta, it was almost embarrassing, but it had happened. And apparently it wasn't a particularly memorable thing to him, if not remembering the boy's name was anything to go by.

Narrowing his eyes, he slung an arm around Elizaveta's waist upon reaching her, tugging her possessively into his side even as he felt her begin to struggle against him. His grip tightened, and he whispered warningly in her ear.

"Easy there, my little sword fighter. Wouldn't want the government to know too much, now would we?" he purred, tracing his lips along the shell of her ear before turning his ruby gaze to Eliza's company.

"And just who would you be?" he said blithely, choosing to not even try to remember the Omega's name, though an underlying threat lay in his words. The boy paled but he, remarkably, stood his ground.

"My name is Roderich," he said, in a haughty, arching tone that made Gilbert want to claw his ears off.

"Great, bye then Roderich," he said hurriedly and tugged Elizaveta away. She waved goodbye to her friend and allowed Gilbert to continue to lead her until they got to the edge of the schoolyard.

Within seconds, the warm form of Elizaveta was wrenched away from his grasp, and he had to grudgingly respect how much effort that had probably taken the young Hungarian Omega to do, especially this close to her heat.

"What do you want, Gilbert," she grumbled, a hand surreptitiously moving to cover the bite mark he'd left on her shoulder.

A low chuckle escaped him, "You don't need to hide that from me, Eliza," he murmured, his hand reaching out to twine their fingers together and pull hers away from her neck. "I was the one who created it after all."

Elizaveta blessed him with a glare and furiously yanked her hand from his. "Would you stop touching me?" she snapped, taking a couple of steps back. "Now why are you here?"

Gilbert did not appreciate her tone with him, the way she was trying to order him to do something rubbed completely against his Alpha side.

A growl rumbled, low and warningly, through his chest. "Elizaveta, I suggest not using that tone around me," he warned her slowly, his fingers curling back around her wrist and tugging her back against his chest. "Remember, darling, you are an Omega, and I am an Alpha. Don't forget our society, just because you can use a sword does not mean that you can order me about," he knew that he'd been perhaps a bit too harsh, but everything he'd been taught since he was young went against her attitude around him. He couldn't allow her to be like this, not in his presence anyway.

Glaring, Elizaveta found herself both frustratingly bothered and attracted to his tone, that warning voice. Growling, she shook her head and tried to move against him, tugging backwards with as much of her strength as she could muster.

Gilbert felt Eliza's muscles cord beneath his fingers, her fingers pressing over the cloth of his shirt and against his skin, and a rather evil thought passed through his mind. Smirking, he let her go, watching as she stumbled back, her eyes shooting wide before narrowing into pinpoints of anger.

"What was that for?" she cried, suddenly snatching forward to slap Gilbert.

He grit his teeth, holding back from an equally enraged response. "Well, you wanted to be let go, didn't you? Now come along, Dummkopf, I'm taking you home. We can't have you alone this close to your heat, nein?" he murmured, his pale hair shining brilliantly in the direct light of the sun.

It would be impossible for Elizaveta not to see the logic behind his reasoning. She may hate him, but that didn't mean that she was totally against understanding him. Or, though she'd never openly admit it, that she was well aware of how attractive he was. Those red eyes seemed to notice everything, his skin was soft, laying over pads of muscle, that white blond hair shining in any light that was reflected upon it and delivering a portion of it back to its source. He was gorgeous, and dangerous, and strong, and dominant all at once. It drew her in.

"Very well, but don't touch me," she warned, turning on her heel to stalk away from him, her skirt whirling tantalizingly about her body and clinging to the curve of her hips just long enough for Gilbert to appreciate it.

Laughing, he followed after her, ignoring her warning and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side. It was a gesture influenced largely by the fact that she was an Omega in preheat, which made Alphas automatically consider the idea that protection was necessary for the fragile beings.

And so he accompanied her to her house, managing to strike up a reasonable conversation with her about how her Omega classes were going. These moments of respite were few and far between, but they existed. It wasn't until they got to her front door that he realized the slight problem they were going to have to be dealing with.

"Ehm, Elizaveta," he said carefully, releasing her to run a nervous hand through his hair, his red eyes shifting anywhere but at the bitemark at her neck. "How are your parents going to react when they see that claim shining upon your pretty little neck?"

She seemed to wilt at the thought. "Well, that is something I can deal with myself, thank you," she said, remaining strong, despite the insecurity in her eyes.

Swallowing, Gilbert shook his head. "No, the awesome me did this. I will tell your parents that that is my awesome mark." It was fairly obvious to anyone who would have been watching that he was forcing this confidence onto himself.

Before either of them could argue the point further, the door swung open. There stood Elizaveta's father, her mother standing just behind her. Elizaveta looked at the Alpha of her family, the woman who had sired her, and she bowed her head, feeling the disapproving glare rolling through those rocky brown eyes. She could smell the younger Alpha's scent on her daughter, and she did not approve of this way of going about things. Her mate, a female Omega who looked very similar to Elizaveta, was covering her mouth in shock, gazing at her daughter with an almost disappointed expression. Elizaveta shrunk down further.

It took Gilbert about two seconds to step in front of the Omega he'd taken a liking to, gazing calmly and challengingly into the eye's of the Alpha standing before him. "I would like to speak with you in private," he spoke unshakingly, understanding that it was highly likely that Elizaveta's parents would deny him his request, especially after this tiny issue. It wasn't against the law to mark an Omega before officially mating them, it was rather common, in fact. But it still was considered a little rude to do so without asking the parents of the Omega, whether the parents are both Betas or if they are Omega and Beta, or Alpha and Beta, or Alpha and Omega. There was no exception to this expectation.

With a judgmental look, a slight nod of the head was all he got in response from Elizaveta's father, and he was soon being gestured into the house.

This was probably a thousand times worse than talking to Ludwig would have been, and not for the first time, Gilbert cursed his arrogant ass, and his unfailing capability to throw himself headlong into situations that would get him in trouble.

With a deep breath, he stepped inside.

* * *

Alrighty! I have ended this lovely chapter on a reasonably okay note, right?

Please look at the poll on my profile! And I promise that we will have some Franada and UKUS action to squeal over soon! And maybe some DenNor as well. So yay! Celebration, non?

Until sometime this week, my beautiful readers.


	4. The Consequences of an Action

So, I'm sorry for the kind of late update, but I've been super busy lately. This is a meh chapter, so please don't expect much. I was just writing random stuff because I wasn't feeling a lot of inspiration. Anywho, thank you for your comments, I really appreciate them. Now, I'm going to probably answer one reviewer per chapter, even if that reviewer is always the same one.

**ellecasszio: **Well, I really do hope you enjoy this chapter because it does answer one of your questions. That's as much of an answer that I can give you right now, as not even I know what Arthur is to Gilbert just yet. I'm trying to figure it out myself, but I think I have a vague idea of what I'm going to have their full past be. I only briefly touch on it right now, but I promise that I'll get more into it in the next chapter.

Now then, please enjoy! And if you have any questions, just type up a review, or PM me. Either works. I will try to answer all of them.

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Hetalia Franchise._

* * *

**The Consequence of an Action**

_"__Screw the rules, damn the consequences, and just love. Love until it kills you, because there's nothing better worth dying for."_

**―****Karen Amanda Hooper, ****_Tangled Tides_**

* * *

Gilbert stepped cautiously over the threshold, peering about with a reserved wonder. The building wasn't altogether stunning, but it was reasonably eye catching, with its soaring staircase that arched away from the central foyer sort of room that he'd stepped into, to the obviously mahogany-made office off to his left. To his right, there was a hall branching off to a kitchen, and past that, a dining room. The living room was just ahead of the door and barely to the left of the spiral staircase. He could only assume that bedrooms were held upstairs, as he doubted that he'd receive the opportunity to see them on this particular visit.

The alpha of the house steered him to the left, guiding Gilbert swiftly into the office and gesturing towards a chair. A shuffling of feet behind him alerted the young Alpha to the fact that Elizaveta would not be joining this conversation, as she was being gently guided upstairs, like she was some fragile vase, by her mother.

The Alpha on the other side of the desk cleared her throat, easily snagging Gilbert's attention.

"Before we get into what this is all about, I think it would be best that we introduce ourselves, wouldn't you agree?" she questioned, though it was really more of a demand.

Gilbert just nodded in response.

"Wonderful." Her tone was sarcastic. "Now then, my name is Etel, and my mate's name is Aranka." She made a gesture, implying that Gilbert should give his name. It wasn't that she didn't know who he was, it was kind of impossible to forget about an Albino Alpha that your daughter was best friends with. But, to establish a good about of respect in this arrogant boy, she was going to have to act cool and indifferent.

Clearing his throat, Gilbert composed himself, hoping to God that his voice didn't waver. "I'm pleased to meet you, Etel, and your lovely mate, Aranka. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt."

Etel eyed him critically for a moment. "Well, now that we are past the introductions, let's get down to business." She paused, watching him out of surprisingly cold amber eyes. "You almost marked my daughter, and without her, or my consent."

Gilbert shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He knew that this was going to be difficult, but didn't assume that she would be so blunt about the situation either. From where this Alpha sat behind the huge chunk of mahogany desk, she looked tiny, minuscule. The room was dark, foreboding, but professional, with its bookcases, sleek dark wood bookshelves, pictures of the family on a family vacation at one point or another, a nice lamp from the 1940s that sat on its little pedestal atop the desk, its neck arching just a bit before suddenly being heavily weighted down by a long metal rectangle. The chair that he was sitting in had arms that curved just a little bit out, ending in waves of rolling wood, like a leaf. Its red leather was nailed into the rest of the wooden seat with conspicuous golden nail heads, and curved down and just around the bottom of the chair.

Gilbert knew that he was stalling for time in his brief assessment of the room, but it'd always been a problem for him to focus when he started getting antsy. Being pushed into a corner was not his thing. It was totally un-awesome of her to do this to him, in his opinion.

"Well, Etel, unfortunately, you are right. I did almost mark your daughter, and I do understand the implications that would come with that, but she was hardly unwilling. And, with all due respect, don't you think it is time to start searching for a mate for your Omega child? She is hardly the delicate flower that you want her to be, and if you're not careful, no Alpha's going to want her when he sees the attitude she's willing to send back," he shrugged nonchalantly, knowing that he could very well be causing Etel to bristle at his words. "Elizaveta is lovely, but she doesn't know her place very well. Are you aware that your Alpha sons taught her to swordfight?" he asked her, just slipping the forbidden fact into their conversation as an extra tidbit to warn her. He wasn't generally so crafty with his words, or even so mature, but this was a stressful, and very tense situation. He had to rise to the occasion.

It worked.

Etel's posture seemed to straighten, though the glimmer of interest in her eyes flickered for a moment, as if she was unsure of where to take negotiations now that she knew this young Alpha could hold something over her head. "What way do you have to prove this, Gilbert?" she asked him carefully, making a mental note to scold Elizaveta later for her blatant disregard for the rules of their society.

"Well, much as I hate to admit it, I had been sword-fighting with her before things got a little more… Er... Interesting," Gilbert supplied, hesitating at the word.

"Sword fighting? You dared to sword fight with an Omega? You could be thrown in jail. You could have injured what may very well be another Alpha's Omega one day." Etel said, momentarily pleased with her way of getting around his threat. It was partially true and untrue. He wouldn't get in the same amount of trouble that she would if the truth was found out, but he wouldn't necessarily get away scot-free either.

Gilbert paled, if that was even possible, and began to think, his eyes flickering once more about the rich office, with its autumn colors shining in a burnished metal sort of fashion in the dim light. "I had never… Thought of that…" trailed off Gilbert then, momentarily quailed, though he did make it his business to meet the other Alpha's eyes. He couldn't very well show any signs of subordination at this point; he himself was an Alpha as well.

Etel paused then, and studied him. He was a strong Alpha, one that she knew would take care of her feisty Omega daughter well. The lines of muscle and stubbornness that could be read in his shoulders told her enough of that, anyway. He had a lovely face, not too sharp, or pointed, but not so round either. A smidgen of baby fat still hung about his cheeks, but she knew that would go away too, once he got into more combat training. There was a gleam in his eyes that attracted her; those red, red eyes. The eyes of hatred, anger, rage, and the eyes of love, passion, and beauty. So much could be read into those eyes, but the only thing she certainly saw there, in those scarlet depths, was embarrassment, that pinking cheek kind, and determination. He wanted to have the chance to court Eliza, and something told her that he'd do whatever he could to catch her. In many ways, this fierce tenacity seemed to forego the bright, angel-white of his hair, pure in its clear, pearly essence. The light shone down on that head of his, disillusioning just how human this boy could be, passing him off as if he were a saint, or some other ancient divinity, with a halo circling and kissing the crown of his head.

"I will give you permission to court my daughter under one condition," she waited, lingering to see his acknowledgement and understanding of her words, "that you respect her decision in whether or not she wishes to accept you as her Alpha. If you lay a single hand on her that she doesn't consent to being there, than I promise that you will regret ever coming to this house and asking my permission. I also do not want you around her at any time during her preheat and heat. Now that you've gotten a taste of Elizaveta, your body is going to be naturally inclined and hell-bent on completing the task, and fully claiming her, not just in a mark, but in a complete relationship as well. Heat would be debilitating to both of you, because in many ways, she'll want the same thing. You are the only Alpha to have ever gotten that close to her, and her body will have already slightly attuned itself to you, especially after you almost completely marked her." With those wise words to leave him with, she shooed the young suitor away, flapping her hand in the direction of the door.

Gilbert didn't need anything else to tell him to get out of there. He was gone in a blur, pausing long enough at the front door to thank Aranka, who was going to invite him to stay for dinner, for taking care of Elizaveta, before he was out of the house and on his way home, his mind pedaling with possibilities, and plans. He certainly needed to do a lot to impress a stubborn Omega like Eliza.

Almost the second Gilbert walked through the door of his home, his mother was dragging him into a chair, and he was greeted with the steely gray, disappointed eyes of his father, and the brighter blue of his brother's. His mother was standing uncomfortably in the background, though you could tell she didn't approve of what he'd done either.

"Gilbert," his father stated, getting straight to the point, "you are grounded, for the total of one month. No ifs or buts about it, you could have wrecked that girl. She wasn't in her right mind at that point, and you should have had better control of yourself. What if you had fully marked her?" his father's voice was stern, anger marking every word, and a grim undertone as well.

Gilbert groaned. This wooing of Elizaveta was going to take a lot longer if he was grounded. His mind immediately began to peddle as he tried to think of a way out of the situation.

"Now, Father, what would you say if I told you that I've already received the approval of her parents to court her?" he asked him, his eyes shining with the same hope that had been compared to the brilliant mass of white hair that perched upon his head earlier on.

"Gilbert, I don't care. _Wunderbar_, you have permission from her parents to court her; not mark her, or claim her. Am I to believe that there aren't stipulations? That you are her Alpha already? She isn't going to be easy, Gilbert, and you need to learn your lesson. Your punishment will remain as it is, and if you try to persuade me to get you out of it, I will be sure to lengthen it, and maybe talk to Elizaveta's parents and persuade them to cut off their agreement with you."

That had Gilbert gulping and nodding. He understood, both of the threats, though he knew that his father wouldn't go through with the second one. He'd been hinting at Gilbert's need to find an Omega soon, so this was as good an opportunity as any. But that didn't necessarily mean that Alfher approved of the fact that his son had almost marked an Omega who had been rather vulnerable at the time.

Gilbert decided not to mention the sword fighting thing. He had a feeling that would get him in an even worse situation than the one he was currently in.

After their 'negotiation,' Gilbert was released up to his room, where his punishment would commence for the next month. He was to go there every night the minute he got home, and he was forbidden to socialize with any of his friends outside of school. It was pretty awful for Gilbert, as he was quite the socialite when he wanted to be, and now he'd have to miss out on Antonio and Francis's company, as annoying as they generally were.

As soon as Gilbert sat down on the mattress, bouncing a moment as it grew accustomed to his weight, Ludwig was walking into the room. The solemn blue eyes of his younger brother bore holes into Gilbert. It was truly an uncomfortable, and desolate sensation, and so Gilbert glared pointedly at a space just behind Ludwig's head. He was kind of mad at his younger brother. He was the reason that he was in this situation; if the rule-following German had just decided to not tell their parents, he may have still been able to go places after school, and have friends, and acquaintances, and remain frenemies with Arthur Kirkland.

"What do you want, Ludwig?" growled out Gilbert, finally shifting those red eyes to the blond haired boy. They held a slowly simmering anger, not too close to fury or rage, but close enough to warrant a little bit of concern.

"You know I had to tell them, Gilbert. They would have found out eventually," stated Ludwig, as much of a sympathetic tone as was possible for him leaking into the syllables and letters of each word. He'd always been the more mature one of the Beilschmidt brothers.

"Whatever, West, just go away. Your un-awesomeness is giving me a headache." grumbled the older sibling, turning to lay in his bed and flipping so that his back was to Ludwig. He didn't suppose there was a real reason for the name West, other than the fact that his brother had been born in the West part of Germany, unlike himself, who'd been born further East, in the once-country of Prussia.

Ludwig hesitated a moment before leaving. He knew where he wasn't wanted, and besides, he had to check on Feliciano. One could never know when the helpless Omega needed some assistance.

Gilbert was laying flat out on his bed, when his phone buzzed, the bright screen burning a little patch of light on the ceiling. It had gotten dark enough outside at this point for there to be a very small amount of light in the actual room.

When Gilbert rolled over to check the person who texted, he was simultaneously elated and disappointed to find that it was only Francis. Sighing, but knowing he had nothing better to do, he pulled the text open, scanning it quickly before rapidly responding. This was an interesting piece of information, more interesting than he'd ever read before, anyway.

_Der Franzose: Gil, le petit frère d'Alfred is coming to our school tomorrow. Exciting, non?_

_The Awesome Gilbert: For you, maybe, but not for me, Franzmann. I am grounded, thanks to the Elizaveta fiasco._

_Der Franzose: Aw, trop mauvais. You will not get to watch me seduce this newest of Omegas._

_The Awesome Gilbert: I don't see that as a loss. Goodnight, Francis, you Dummkopf._

And with that last note, their conversation was over. Gilbert set his phone down again, only to get yet another text, but this time, from Antonio. He hated to admit that he still had hopes that it would be Elizaveta who would text him, even though that would be pretty unrealistic, as he'd never given her his phone number.

_Die Tomate: Hola mi amigo! How was the lovely Elizaveta's house? ;)_

Well, he had to say that Antonio seemed to forgive grudges fairly quickly.

_The Awesome Gilbert: It was schrecklich, Antonio. Her parents were there, and her father was intimidating._

_Die Tomate: Ah, mis disculpas. Lovino agreed to let me court him! You are jealous, no?_

_The Awesome Gilbert: Jealous of you? Why would I be jealous of you, having to court such an irritable Omega? Nicht, I have been given the green light to court Eliza, a much more attractive option._

_Die Tomate: As if Lovino would be interested in you anyway. Goodnight, Gil._

Gilbert didn't bother to respond, being in a bad enough mood as it was, both of his friends seemed to be doing nothing but furthering this deficient attitude.

Eventually he put his phone away, after playing a couple rounds of a rather addictive app that he'd discovered not too long ago on Francis's phone and had subsequently added to his own gallery of applications. Besides, he knew that eventually one of his parents would think to come and collect his phone. He might have a better chance at keeping it if they don't see him actively using it.

Sleeping, on the other hand, was rather difficult. He had too much pedaling through his mind to really start to sleep. For starters, he had to figure out how to even be capable of talking to Eliza after their encounter in the weapons room. Second of all, he needed to start considering what he was going to get her as courting presents. She wouldn't be in school for at least the next week, now that her preheat had kicked in so strongly, so he at least had a little time. What he was going to do with that time was another matter. And then, of course, there was the little issue with Arthur.

He and the Englishman used to be rather okay friends, but then a rift sprung up between them as soon as Gilbert had become friends with Francis. Arthur just couldn't stand the Frenchman, though that may or may not have been because the then young Francis had managed to convince Alfred, the Omega Arthur has now thoroughly staked as his own, to avoid Arthur for a few years, until they reached high school. There was something about Arthur being unfair to him. Gilbert didn't know, and he was pretty sure he didn't care either. They were back together, and that was all he needed to concern himself with.

Needless to say, it was well into the early dawn hours of the morning before he was able to fall into a fitful doze.

Walking through the school doors, Gilbert was well aware that he probably didn't look his best. But that hardly warranted the dramatic gasp that escaped Francis upon the Frenchman's blue eyes landing on him, and the theatric reaction of Antonio, who's mouth dropped open as he fell to his knees on the floor. The Spaniard then clasped his hands together and began praying to God that his friend would be okay, and that he was still the Gilbert they all knew.

Growling in sleep deprivation and lack of caffeine, another sanction that had been placed on him in lieu of the previous day's events, Gilbert was not in the mood to deal with such mockery. Pushing past his two rather shell-shocked friends, he wrenched his locker open and began to angrily pull and trade binders.

It was, or so he later claimed, his earnest interest in not choosing the wrong things that distracted him from the change of mood in Francis, or the smell of a new Omega flooding into the hall, or the returned stench of Alfred.

What did get his attention, though, was how Francis nearly slammed his fingers into his locker door as he seemed to lose all control of his movements. Blinking slowly, Gilbert glared at his friend for a moment or two before following his line of sight and noticing Alfred's twin walking down the hall.

He seemed rather soft spoken, with a similar facial structure to Alfred, those same cheeks, and cheekbones, nose and lips, but with different hair, eyes, and facial shape. His hair hung down to about his chin, one stray curl springing roguishly from his head and hanging like a satellite around his skull. And his eyes were a lovely shade of violet, even Gilbert would attest to that. He seemed rather skinny, but most Omegas were. Alfred was odd in that he was large for his type, taller than Arthur.

Alfred, unlike his brother, had bright blue eyes that always seemed to be glimmering with excitement and thrill and joy, and innocence. He was always grinning, and putting himself in everyone's business; a total gossip. And his hair was shorter, though he did have a wisp of it that always stuck up out of the mass of shaggy strands, as obnoxious as its owner.

The minute Arthur saw his unmarked Omega, he was by the boys side and tugging him to the side of the hall for a "kiss" which quickly turned into a bit more than just that. Arthur was only about a half of an inch shorter, but he made up for that height difference in his commanding presence. Alfred would always melt around him, becoming easily pliable beneath Arthur's orders. It was both endearing and disturbing, and Gilbert made it a point not to look in the corner that they were at, though he knew there was less kissing and more smelling and pressing. Alfred's backpack was pushed up against the wall, the alien shape to it, with its red buggy eyes, not being used for anything but a cushion at this point.

His twin, on the other hand, had a backpack that seemed to be a white bear, and he was blushing at the rather obvious display of dominance that Arthur was exhibiting. His own pointed avoidance of the corner that Arthur and Alfred were occupying was what kept him completely unaware of Francis's incoming presence.

The blond man swooped in on the boy with surprisingly more caution than he normally had. He seemed to really want to make a good impression, and he knew that this twin spoke French, even if it was only Canadian French, so he already had something in common with him.

Gilbert decided to leave Francis to his own session of courting, choosing instead to head to class.

What he left behind him in the hallway was certainly interesting. Ludwig was pressing his face into his hand as Feliciano pointed happily at his canned tomatoes. Normally the two Vargas brothers were completely against the use of canned foods, but Feliciano had always been rather enraptured with the idea of a "tomato fairy" existing in one of the metal cylinders.

Arthur was burying his nose into Alfred's neck, inhaling the familiar musky smell of the American that would one day be his mate. It had a nice soap overlay, clean and soothing. His lips pressed into that familiar patch of skin that he'd been paying more attention to as the months progressed, his lips working and teeth beginning to nip. Alfred murmured something that sounded similar to "God Arthur, I missed you," but the Alpha couldn't be sure. He was having difficulty controlling himself.

And the same could be said for Alfred. His own nose was working its way into the hair behind Arthur's ear, the smell of rain, and a faint touch of the city to him. He smelled of smoke, but that was okay, because he was Arthur, his Arthur, and he was perfect. A whimper slid past Alfred's lips as he felt Arthur press his teeth a little farther into his skin, and he began to force himself to push the Alpha away.

"Arthur," he wheezed, "we can't. You know we can't."

Something dangerous, frightening, flickered in Arthur's green eyes, but he seemed to quell whatever that was and smile, wearily.

"I know, Alfred, I know," he murmured resignedly and returned to just kissing his future mate.

Francis was working on Alfred's twin, who he'd found out to be called Matthew, though he himself pronounced it differently.

"Mathieu," he murmured, "can I help you with your books?" he wasn't sure if he should start in on their shared French language yet, or give it a few more days. He didn't want to frighten Matthew away, and he was concerned that Alfred would already have told him about his reputation. And for once, he was ashamed, and embarrassed, of what he'd done in the past.

Matthew gazed at him a moment, no emotion showing in those purple eyes, before a soft smile graced his expression.

"You're one of the only people who have noticed me, you know," he said slowly as he let Francis take his books. His thumbs looped into the straps of his backpack as Francis led him to his newly assigned locker. He'd told the Alpha which locker he'd been given, and evidently, it was rather close to Francis's.

"What?!" gasped Francis, gesturing for Matthew to open the locker. "How could someone not notice such a beautiful Omega as you?" he murmured, reaching out with a hand to brush it down the side of Matthew's cheek. "_Vous êtes très beau, mon petit Mathieu_," he said, hoping to God that his so called 'little Matthew' didn't take that too poorly.

Matthew gave him a surprised look before returning to focus on the task of organizing his locker. Francis couldn't help but to smile as he watched the Omega who'd taken his heart, who had very well tamed him at a single glance. This would be interesting.

Antonio was making a rather dramatic show of bowing to Lovino, not caring about the angry, embarrassed Italian who was flusteredly yelling at him to stop being such a "showy bastard." A bouquet of the National Flower of Italy, Poet's Jasmine, was being held across his chest. One could only assume that Antonio had given him the flowers, and the omega did like them, that was something that could be shown in the way he was cradling the things against him, but that didn't mean that he was going to let Antonio, the oblivious Antonio, know that.

But now, Antonio was very much ruining what could have been a wonderful moment. He was being too obvious, too attention grabbing for Lovino to fully appreciate it.

Eventually, the Italian did give up, though it took a little while, and a few persuasive words from Antonio, before he was willing enough to let Antonio touch his face, and draw him closer to press a chaste kiss to his lips, and then press equally soft kisses to both of his rounder cheeks. It was a sweet moment, and one that had some of the Omegas in the hall smiling in wistful hope.

And last, there was the odd pair of the Danish Alpha and the Norwegian Omega. Mathias was leaning on the locker next to Lukas, the cool, emotionless Omega that he'd taken such an interest in, chattering about what he hoped to accomplish today, and what he'd done last night, and what they would do today, and so on. Lukas, though he tried not to, was actually absorbing every word of his more enthusiastic counterpart. He was also purposefully putting things slowly in his locker so as to prolong his time with Mathias. Well, that, and Lukas did want to get a good look at his Alpha for a little while too.

Mathias always had that wild cropping of blond hair atop his head, that seemed to flop to the left side when one was looking at him. The strands stuck in little spiky groups of their own, though there wasn't a single bit of skin on the top of his head to see. Every now and then, he'd wear a little black cap on the left side of his skull, but that would depend on the day. He also had blue eyes, eyes that were generally just as excited as Alfred's. His outfits would vary in color, from red and black, to pink and green. He was energetic, random, spazzy, and chatty, and a perfectly imperfect match for Lukas.

And yet, the shy, reserved, blond haired, blue eyed Norwegian loved him. He loved how Mathias was more willing to try things, and would make him get out there and try them as well; he hated how Mathias was always so pushy and demanding; he loved everything, and he hated everything as well. But he wouldn't give this man up for the world.

And so, as the bell for class rang, he let Mathias rather jealously and possessively place an arm around his shoulders and drag him off to his first class. He had always been insistent that he walked him to class. It was just another thing to add to the perfection that is, was, and always would be Mathias to him.

And so, the hallway cleared, and the day began.

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The end! For this chapter anyway.

What did y'all think of the ending? I was okay with it. Not my best, but certainly far from my worst. I kind of had fun adding the little bits of insight into the different pairings at the end of this. Sorry about not putting PolLiet in there, don't worry, they will exist, I promise.

Until next time! Au revoir.


	5. A Perfectly Perfect Plan

Sorry for the long wait! I had busy Summer things to do, one of which involved going to France. A beautiful country, if I do say so myself. Absolutely beautiful. I must say that Paris is overrated, though. I think that the smaller towns are the true spirit of France. They're so much more personable and welcoming, if that makes sense. You don't get glared at by cranky French people as much. Sorry, if you are French and I just insulted you! Y'all are actually very nice. Just not most of the Paris people. They are judgmental little things.

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Hetalia franchise. So I own nothing but my own writing here. And some of my ideas for this AU._

**Kyubi4Hokage-** I completely understand what you're saying. This Alternate Universe is very touchy. But I think it's really fascinating, because at one point or another, this was how our own world was. Back in the 1500-1600s more specifically. I think it's interesting to explore how society changes over time in these kinds of environments, and how not every individual was the cookie cutter mold that they were supposed to be. I don't know, but I'm really glad that you find this interesting, and I greatly appreciate your reviews.

I love all of your reviews, actually, so keep them coming! In response to an Anonymous guest, yes, I will probably write an UKUS spinoff of this story. But I need to finish this one first. xD

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**A Perfectly Perfect Plan**

_"The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking." _

**―Albert Einstein**

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The day itself was an awkward affair. Of his friend group, Gilbert was the only one who didn't have an Omega that was with him to court. So, naturally, he was forced to sit uncomfortably at the table he and his friends shared as said friends amused, flirted, and kissed their chosen Omegas. Well, to be fair, Antonio and Romano were the only ones doing the kissing, but still. It was awkward and miserable, and Gilbert did eventually leave halfway through lunch. He had details to work out pertaining to Elizaveta and how in the world he was going to get her to accept him as her mate.

It only took a few minutes of agonization over what to do to have Gilbert quickly dispelling any forming ideas.

"It's whatever," he murmured to himself from where he was making practice swings with his sword in the weapons room. It was always a nice thing to do to get him to focus. "Who could possibly turn down the awesome me, with my awesome skills, and my awesome personality?"

When Ludwig's class began to swarm into the room, Gilbert put his sword up and went off to class, twisting his body this way and that to avoid the mingling bodies of the Alphas in the hallway. Omega classes were in another hall.

The layout of Gilbert's school was pretty simple. There were three separate halls, all branching off from the main body of the school, which held the cafeteria and administrative offices. When walking through the front doors, the first hall on the left belonged to the kids going from grades 1-5. They weren't quite separated out in nature groups just yet, as they were too young for anything serious to happen, and some basics needed to be taught to everyone. A playground was attached to the very end of their wing, and it was a complex affair. That was where the segregation between Alphas and Omegas would first start to show itself. The Omegas were generally made, by teachers, to rest on the sidelines so as not to injure themselves. They would giggle and talk and play paddy-cake and other menial hand games, but not wrestle and play ball. The Alphas, on the other hand, were allowed to romp around however much they pleased, breaking limbs or straining muscles. The playground equipment was mainly dominated by Alphas, and Omegas only ever clambered up if they were brave, and if no Alphas were present on it. Alphas could be quite violent before they learned to control their temper around their weaker counterparts.

As you kept walking down the main hall, you were greeted with the middle hall, the one containing the Omegas. This hall was close to the younger kids's classes in order to give the Omegas opportunity to learn how to mother and care for younger children.

And finally, after the Omega hall, you had the Alpha wing. This wing was large, a lot bigger than both of the other two. It was more of a building than a hall. The regular classrooms dotted one side of the passageway, and on the other were doors to gyms, weapons rooms, tech rooms, and meeting rooms for mock trials. The Alphas always got the best, and most modern equipment on the market, including fresh textbooks every two or three years.

Society had always been this set apart, dating all the way back to the ancient peoples. But small groups of both Omegas and Alphas were springing up, furious with the way things were and trying to fight back. Not all Alphas were brawny and loud, far from it. Some were quiet, and reserved, not wanting to draw attention to themselves and preferring, instead to just read a book somewhere in a corner. There were Omegas out there who could fight with the best of them, Omegas with the build of Alfred who were unhappy with constantly being hampered by society's traditions and rules. These focus groups were generally paid very little mind.

The week passed without interruption. Gilbert got himself landed in detention, Francis made further headway in getting Matthew to allow him to court him—an interesting thing to all who knew Francis, as this was an Alpha who no one ever thought would tie himself down. Francis could only hope that Alfred never told Matthew his past—and Antonio was getting closer and closer to getting Romano to accept him. The Italian had always liked the Spaniard, it wasn't exactly a secret, and so Antonio didn't entirely have to do a lot to win his way permanently into the boy's heart.

When Gilbert got home that Friday afternoon, his father greeted him with the most unfortunate of news, in Gilbert's opinion anyway.

"Something excellent has happened, Gilbert!" said Alfher, his steel eyes shining under the lights in the ceiling. A growing dread was creeping through Gilbert's veins as he waited patiently for the man to continue. "Feliciano has gone into heat! You will not be seeing your brother for some time, my son." The pride was practically leaking out of Alfher's pores. It made Gilbert want to break something. After a rather miserable week, this was just the cherry on top; the nasty, overripe, worm-riddled cherry on top.

"Great," he drawled, his voice caustically sweet. "Now we can add an idiot like Feliciano into our family and just watch as the world collapses around us." His red eyes were furious, and before his father could respond, he was storming upstairs and into his room, slamming the door behind him.

And for once, the painted squares of black and white that were meshed together as fragments all over his walls did nothing to make him smile. The swords, sitting like a coat of arms over the head of his bed changed nothing about his mood. Not even the plush black carpet, enveloping his toes in its cushy embrace, did anything. His room, as cool, sleek, modern, and black and white as it was, was doing nothing to make him feel suave and awesome, and like himself. He wanted to be close to Eliza, the effects, he could only assume, of the half-claim that was no doubt still marking her. He didn't want to call Feliciano brother. He didn't want anything to change.

And so, in a fit of teenage drama, he threw himself on his bed, which was pushed up against the right wall of his room, laying sprawled across the cross of the Teutonic Knights that was on his comforter. Groaning, he moved his hands to scrub down his face. The only entertainment left to him right now was either A) Working out something for Eliza, or B) Reading. His phone had been taken away a day or so after the start of his punishment. As reading was such an unattractive option to Gilbert, he chose to make something for Eliza. More of a plan, than anything else. Nothing material. He figured that, the day she came back to school, which would be Monday, he'd be there to greet her and guide her through the doors. And from then on, he'd walk her to class, even if that meant going into the Omega hall, and he'd be sure to get her lunch for her at lunch. He'd compliment her, and be a gentleman the entire day.

As much as Gilbert would hate to admit it, he was jealous that his brother was getting to mate with an Omega. Gilbert had done it before, yes, but never during heat; never to form a bond. Those Omegas who did sell themselves like that were generally sought after by Alphas who didn't have someone to impress. It was just the way things worked. They were the soon to be trash on the streets, as few, if any Alphas would want an Omega that had been with several people as a mate. And Gilbert was going to miss his brother, even if the boy had gotten him in an immense amount of trouble.

On Monday morning, Gilbert was waiting for Elizaveta to make her appearance. He generally got to school early, only because he had nothing better to do in the mornings, and he was so blasted full of energy that he had to find some way to be active. And when you're early to school, you tend to get to witness a lot of drama. Or not a lot, as some days may hold. Today was a relatively mellow one.

The first few to roll in after Gilbert were the Beta-Alpha couple of Hercules and Kiku. Hercules was a rather slow guy, quiet and tired seemingly all the time. He was the Beta in the pairing, surprisingly enough, as he was a fair bit larger than Kiku. Kiku was an odd Alpha. He was shy and close-mouthed, and he didn't speak a lot. After those two came Yao, a Chinese Alpha who was a self-proclaimed Asexual. That was a fairly odd day, when he announced that to the student populace, but everyone soon got over it. Accompanying him was the intimidating Ivan, a Russian Beta who terrified the wits out of everybody but Yao. The two of them were pioneers of Equal Rights Clubs in the school. Then, fanning in after, were Antonio and Romano, who were enthusiastically arguing in a mixture of Spanish and Italian; Francis, who seemed to be trying desperately to talk to a rigid and obviously very pissed off Matthew; a grinning Alfred and an amused Arthur; and Lukas and Mathias, the Danish and Norwegian couple. They didn't look too happy with one another, a dark look clouding Lukas's face, and a smile missing from the generally laughing Mathias. Gilbert was slightly concerned that their little spat was a bad omen for his day.

Before Gilbert could dwell on any of the couple problems fanning out in the school, Elizaveta appeared. She stepped out of her Father's black Escalade with grace, her electric blue parachute pants drawing eyes from all over the front of the school. She wore a white tank top with it, tucked in, and some white gym shoes. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, stray strands falling down to frame her face. Compared to Gilbert's simple Metallica t-shirt and dark wash jeans, she was a Goddess. And he certainly would agree with that summary, as he stood there gawking. He almost forgot to step forward and help her into the school.

When Elizaveta saw Gilbert, a furious blush came to her face. Gilbert had to admit, it was rather impressive. And there was only one reason why she'd be embarrassed to see him now, and not indignant as she'd been before her heat. She must have been dreaming of him. The Omega fidgeted nervously with the strap to her satchel bag, her eyes flicking about to see if she could hitch alongside someone she knew, but they were about the only two students out there at the moment.

"Guten Morgen," said Gilbert cheerfully, grinning cockily over at the beautiful Hungarian. Elizaveta tried, and failed, to form a scowl in his direction. She was much too attracted to him, it was fairly obvious. Clearly her heat had changed her point of view a wee bit. "I figured I'd walk you to class today."

"Did you now?" she said, finally, a patronizing, sharp edge to her voice. "I know my way around the school, trust me, that won't be necessary," she said, starting forward in an attempt to slide around him. As attracted to him as she was, she was stubborn enough to keep herself from giving in to that devilish smirk of his.

Gilbert's feet moved seemingly of their own accord as he reached out to wrap them around her waist pull her slowly in front of him. "Ah, I don't think you'll be going anywhere without me today, Engel," he said, his accent slipping into the last word. Elizaveta's nose wrinkled.

"Did you just call me Angel?" she asked him, one eyebrow rising. For someone who had been so willing to get away from him not two seconds ago, she seemed to have settled herself in his arms fairly easily. "Come on, you couldn't get more original?" And with that, she pinched his hands, gliding past as he yelped in pain and yanked his arms out from around her.

Her laugh peeled down the hallway to dance mirthfully in his ears. He watched her go, scrubbing at the red circles resting on the backs of his hands. She was going to be difficult, and he clearly was going to have to do more than just offer himself. As he shrugged and went to class, he completely missed Elizaveta meeting up with the Austrian Beta from yesterday, Roderich. Nor did he notice the soft smile she sent the awkward boy's way.

And when, at lunch, Gilbert searched for the Omega that he was courting, he found that she was spending her time laughing and giggling and smiling at this same Austrian boy. This Beta who'd swooped out of nowhere to start working on claiming the heart of Elizaveta.

Gilbert could feel anger starting to ride over his emotions. Antonio and Romano were the only other ones at the table, and they were thoroughly engrossed in one another. It seems that whatever they'd been arguing about earlier had been resolved. Francis was off trying to explain himself to Matthew, who was having none of it. And so, Gilbert had no one to distract him from what was going on just across the cafeteria. So, naturally, when the lunch was over and Elizaveta stood to get to her next class, Gilbert was there, dragging her off somewhere in the school where they wouldn't be found out. Once they'd gotten there, and with a good deal of complaining and fighting on Elizaveta's part, he wheeled her around and caged her against the wall, extremely frustrated with her.

"Do your parents know about that one too?" he snarled out, his eyes flickering with fire. He wanted to know what was going on, what game she was playing. Why she was using Roderich, of all people, to make him jealous. "Do not turn this into a story about the heroine having two boys fight over her. I can't handle that. I won't put up with it. Goddammit, Eliza," he was losing it now. Eliza stood there, between his arms, half frightened, and half intrigued. His face was sweeping through a range of emotions, expressive in his vulnerability.

"Gilbert, that's nonsense," she finally spoke up, shaking her head. But his low growl had her regretting that word choice. "I don't like Roderich, not that way, for goodness's sake. And what does it matter to you anyway?" when she noticed that some of her words were having an effect, she dared to reach out and touch his jaw, brushing along the curve of his cheek until she reached his lips. "Gil, you can't read an Omega, can you?" she murmured absentmindedly, her eyes gazing with a glazed fascination at his features and his ruby eyes.

"You wonder why I don't want to accept you as my mate," she continued, shushing him as he tried to interrupt. "Well, when you figure it out, I promise you that I'll change my mind." And with that, she ducked out from under his arms and sidled off to class, leaving a confused Alpha behind her.

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That's all, folks. Sorry for the chapter, it's really just more of a filler one. I promise that I'll actually develop a plot in the next one, and it will have a lot of things going down. Be excited, everybody! This'll be good. The next chapter should, hopefully, be up in a few days. Don't count on it though.


	6. This Convoluted Society

Hey, this was originally an Editor to the Letter that I wrote for my history class. It was based around the time of the women's suffrage movement in America, before the Civil War in 1848. Obviously I changed a couple of words, men to Alpha, and women to Omega. Added his or her, and Bill Gates replaced George Washington. But I'm publishing this thing for several reasons. One, is to point out how similar this Omegaverse AU is to what was actually happening back in the days when women had little rights. Another, is to cause tension, and to get things moving in the fan fiction. A bold movement like this will have some Alphas at the school riled, and the fact that the school newspaper actually published it will cause even more consternation and anger. The final one is to start showing more about Elizaveta, to start having y'all connect with her a bit more. We've gotten Gilbert's privileged point of view. It's time to see things, even if it's an opinionated letter, from Elizaveta's perspective.

**ellecasszio: **I didn't really answer any of your questions in my last chapter, neither in the content or by directly addressing them. So I'm going to try to do so here. As you saw, Francis was eventually sold out, and now Matthew is more than a little upset with the French Alpha. Ah well, hopefully they can overcome this wrench, right? As for Gil and Elizaveta's parents, one can only hope, right? Gil does have a tragic history of speaking before he thinks. I'd watch out for that tiny little flaw in the future. It can possibly screw some more things up before we reach our possible happy ending.

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Hetalia Franchise._

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**This Convoluted Society**

_"I know, up on top you are seeing great sights, but down here at the bottom we, too, should have rights." _

**―****Dr. Seuss, _Yertle the Turtle and Gertrude Mcfuz_**

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Dear Editor

**Re:** "Should Omegas Have Rights?"

_August 2, 2014_

It is often more difficult for an Alpha to understand what it would be like to be an Omega. To watch one's property taken from them by the state; to watch the chance to learn fly by one's grasping fingers; to be incapable of doing anything but clean and cook after society's standards; to rely so heavily on another person.

An Omega cannot be independent of his or her Alpha mate, or of his or her father, in this age. But the Revolution was fought so that the Alphas of this country could live in their own freedom and independence, and so that their voices could be heard in the government, and they could make an impact on the lives of those who would follow their footsteps. Omegas were not included in this dream, so it seems.

No one seemed to remember that the reason there are Alphas to be soldiers, and Alphas to govern our country, and Alphas to preach, and Alphas to teach, is because of Omegas. We gave life to great, respected Alphas akin to the standards of Bill Gates, and Benjamin Franklin. We raised them when they were mere infants, and taught them to speak and to have morals; to always be trustworthy, and to hold themselves high.

As ignorant as we Omegas are played off to be, we have seen our own fair share of horrors at our homes, ranging from a bloodied knee to having to kill the pig for dinner. We are far from delicate, and we know how to make decisions just as well as the next Alpha.

As simple as an argument between two children is to settle, the truth is that many of the arguments taking place in Congress can very well be compared to a petty spat between two children. Both only see their point of view, and only want to see their point of view. We handle these squabbles with ease and dexterity, aware that on a grand scale of things, the problem is, more often than not, very minuscule, and hardly worth that night's dinner over.

One would think that, with our common sense and ability to learn, and our desire to achieve and prove the world wrong, we would make excellent candidates to throw our say into who we want for Congress, or for Head Alpha. We are not selfish, nor are we unselfish creatures, but we can't be entirely unaware.

Not all Omegas care for only their households. Not all mothers want to be only that; mothers. We can only be as unaware as our Alphas make us, and unless we are given our own rights, the chance to own our own property, and hold our own jobs, and receive our own paychecks, and keep all of our pay, we will have to continue to wait hand-and-foot on our Alphas, whether they be our children, fathers, or mates. We can educate ourselves when given the opportunity, but when we aren't given the opportunity, what then?

Elizaveta Héderváry

Gakuen High Junior Class

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So there we are! And what does everybody think? Please leave comments, reviews, all of that good stuff. I really do love them. :3

Have a lovely weekend, my readers! Stay safe.


	7. A Yes and a Regret

I am back, as promised, within a week. I hope y'all like this chapter! I don't really have any questions to respond to this time around.

Thank you, all of you, for your support of this story. You guys are the ones that keep me writing. So thank you for your compliments! c:

Enjoy!

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Hetalia Franchise._

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**A Yes and a Regret**

_"The test of whether or not you can hold a job should not be in the arrangement of your chromosomes." _

**―Bella Abzula**

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Elizaveta, though she'd hate to admit it, was slowly warming up to Gilbert. As the weeks progressed in the school year, leading into the colder, autumn days of October, she was even beginning to look forward to her mornings. She could always count on Gilbert being there, with a smile on his face, and some useless thing to tell her. He was making more of a conscious effort to win her over than she'd thought he would, that was for sure. He would generally carry her things, and walk with her to her class, and get lunch for her, and save her seats. He was being, quite literally, a perfect gentleman. And it was this change in attitude that made her nervous, because all good things must come to an end. This easy comfort with each other couldn't possibly last for very long. And she'd never hated being right more than she did after her letter was released by Francis in the school newspaper.

She fiercely fought off the huge dive her heart took when she saw that her white-haired Alpha wasn't waiting for her at the doors to the school. She had to continue to fight this sinking feeling as she went through the day with no sight of him, other than seeing his falsely angelic head hidden in a group of friends, or catching a flash of those red eyes glancing her way in the hallways. But other than that, there was nothing else. No contact, no words. He was angry with her, but he wasn't doing what she'd expected him to. He wasn't being confrontational, he was being sulky, and containing his vexation; and she didn't doubt that he was crossed. No, he was much too traditional to not be furious.

When the end of the day rolled around and she was closing her locker after putting her stuff up, she was greeted with the startling appearance of the one boy she'd been stuck thinking about the entire day; Gilbert. He was leaning against the locker next to hers, hidden by the open door. When she closed hers, he was there, gazing at her with a solemn remoteness. She swallowed, a tingle stretching down her body and into her toes. Things were not going to go well, though for which one of them, she could not tell.

"Elizaveta," said Gilbert, not using her nickname. That stung.

"Gilbert," she responded, choosing to acknowledge him with the same kind of detachment he was treating her.

"Would you like to join me for a walk?" he asked her, still being a gentleman, though this extent of it was giving her the creeps. Something was up.

"I suppose I have nothing better to do," she muttered, accepting his proffered arm as they began walking. She was wearing a long dress today, gold and white stripes running diagonally from right shoulder to left hip, and then on the skirt, a white color with black and gray flowers dotting the surface. It was unconventional, different, and it suited her perfectly. Gilbert, however, was wearing some casual khaki shorts and a blood-red shirt, matching the color of his eyes. It made his skin look paler.

As they walked in silence, Elizaveta began to wonder if posting her opinion like that was perhaps a bit too rash. She shouldn't have done something so out there, so spontaneous and different. Omegas were avoiding her like the plague, scared of approaching such a radical. Alphas were giving her dirty looks. It seemed that the only friend she had left was Gilbert, and she wasn't even sure if she could count him as a friend anymore.

"Why did you do it?" he asked her, staring straight ahead, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in a nervous swallow. He was different from the regular, enthusiastic, energetic, full-of-himself Gil. This one was serious, down to earth, business-y. She wasn't sure how to approach this side of him.

"It was the right thing to do," she said, obstinate and unwilling to admit that she may have introduced a concept to a bunch of high schoolers that was above the majority of their heads. Not even regular society would take her ideas in a correct way, much less a thoroughly segregated high school.

"I don't think it was, _Engel_," responded Gilbert, not even realizing that he'd used his pet name for her. It warmed her heart that he was so used to calling her Angel, it just fell off his tongue without a second thought.

"And what would you know, oh great and mighty Alpha?" she responded, sarcastic in her insecurity. She should have built her audience and followers up before doing something like that letter, given them something to fight for, and some courage. But who was she kidding? She could barely control herself around Gilbert, and she wasn't even his mate. Courage be damned when it came to Alphas, they had an unfair amount of control over their Omega counterparts.

"What would I know?" said Gilbert, finally turning to look at her, bringing them both to a stop. "What would I know? I will tell you what I know,_ Dummkopf_, and that is that you do not go changing the natural order of things," he snapped, his voice rising. It was clear that whatever careful control he'd maintained over himself was slowly slipping.

"Sometimes the 'natural order of things' isn't' so natural, Gilbert! Why don't you understand that we are meant to be equal, all of us, Alphas, Betas, Omegas, everyone!" she was exasperated, and at a loss as to what to do. How was she supposed to convince this boy who had been raised with only one belief, only one mindset, of something different? She almost felt sorry for him, if he wasn't such a presumptuous bastard.

Gilbert's face flew through a variety of emotions, the few she was able to identify were righteous indignation, frustration, and confusion. "What else am I supposed to think, Eliza? This is how things have been, this is how things should always be. Omegas are happy, Alphas are happy, Betas are happy. Don't mess with the perfect system that we have going," he nearly begged her, surprising her with his desperation.

When she didn't respond to him, just kept that same inflexible, set to her jaw, he seemed to snap, gripping her forearms in an almost too tight hold. "Why aren't you listening to me?" he hissed through gritted teeth, shaking her slightly. "_Verdammt_, woman, you drive me insane," he muttered, dropping his head so that it fell to her shoulder. She was confused, wondering what on Earth was going on with Gilbert. Was he okay? Did she break him?

"Be mine," he muttered suddenly, randomly against her dress, making her heart quicken. She'd ached to hear those words, but at the same time, they went against what she believed in. She didn't want to be his property. She wanted to be his equal, his mate, but not his. No, never just his. Her life belonged to herself and herself only, not the next Alpha to step into it. She wasn't a piece of furniture to own, she was a human being as well.

"Gilbert, I-" she broke off, her voice catching, "what are you doing? Why are you being like this? What has gotten into you?" she finally spilled out, working valiantly to push him off of her, not an easy task.

"You know that I want you as my mate, Elizaveta," said Gilbert, using every bit of pleading that he could eek out of himself to smile forlornly up at her. He could only hope that his ploy worked. "I want you to be my mate, to be mine. You are beautiful, and talented, and so many things that I am not. I need you." It wasn't like these words were lies, every letter of them was true. But, he had an ultimate goal for getting her to admit that she would be his, his mate. If he could get her to agree to him, then he could show the Omega population of the school that they were still very much beneath their Alpha mates. It was a nasty trick, but he felt it had to be done. Rebellion of this nature would not, could not stand.

Elizaveta was torn, it was quite obvious in the worrying of her bottom lip between her teeth, and the flicking of her eyes. She didn't know what to do, agree to be his, or disagree on principle of her beliefs?

After a long enough moment of hesitation, Gil decided that he should probably urge things along. He did need to get home sometime soon, or his parents would get huffy. And besides, Ludwig and Feliciano were at his house. He had to make sure nothing got broken. So, he stepped closer to her, collecting one of her tanner hands in the grip of one of his pale ones, and raised it to his lips, kissing the back before flipping her hand to press individual kisses on the pads of her fingertips and on the veined, crinkled palm of her hand. He could hear her slight inhalation of breath, and his lips kicked into an honest smile, curving on her skin. He was more than happy that he had this effect on her.

"Gil…" she said finally, prompting him to look up at her, his eyes a torch of hope. "I can't…" she stopped, turmoil clouding her eyes. "Yes. Fine,_ igen_. I'll be yours. But you still have a lot more work to do. I will not let you mark me yet." She said, immediately reverting back to a high-and-mighty attitude as she saw the victorious grin spread across his face.

"Of course, but first, I want to do something that I have been dying to do for ages," he said, perplexing her for a minute before she found that she was once more pressed against him, her hips brushing lightly against his, their torsos grazing each other through the clothes that each was wearing. Her breath rose and caught as one callused hand rose to brush along the side of her face, tracing down the length of her jaw before a thumb circled back up and over her chin to press lightly against her semi-parted lips. Gilbert was intense in his study, in his touching and mapping. He had waited to do this, for much, much, much too long. Finally, after he felt that the tension was enough, he dipped his head and kissed her.

It was soft, gentle, and adoring; and it was everything that Elizaveta had wanted out of her first kiss. She was scared at first, the feeling of his lips on hers strange and foreign, but she soon got over it, reacting off of instinct as he pressed her tighter to him, their bodies meshing. Her hands found their way up to the broad planes of his shoulders, and then around to cup and link together behind his neck. His hands had settled firmly on her hips, messing along the waist line of her dress. She smiled against his lips, knowing that he was probably cursing her for not wearing a shirt and skirt or pants today.

When they finally parted, it was with flushed, pleased faces and shy smiles. Gilbert was proud, that much was obvious, and content. Elizaveta was surprised, pleased, and excited. This was a new step into something big, she was sure. She pushed her thoughts about equal rights aside, forcing herself to just enjoy this sweet moment for what it was worth.

After a couple more exchanged kisses, Gilbert took her back home, bowing politely at her father as she opened the door, before disappearing off to his own house. Elizaveta could feel her mother's suspicious gaze, those Omega eyes not missing a thing, as detail-prone as they were.

"Elizaveta," said Aranka, her mother, "why on Earth are you smiling so much, _drágám_?" she was wearing a gentle, neutral smile. Elizaveta hated it when she wore that smile, it always made her so difficult to read.

"I accepted Gil today," she said, after making sure that her father, Etel, was out of the room. She didn't think that she would take it that well. Not so soon anyway.

"_Mi_?!" Hungarian, rapid and cropped, began to stream out of her mother's mouth as she hugged her precious Omega daughter to herself, laughing and petting and kissing both of her little girl's cheeks. "Oh, I am so proud of you, honey, an Alpha mate for you!" she called, completely un-Omega like in her obvious, loud exuberance. But, Elizaveta knew that her father wouldn't have her mother any other way.

The chestnut-haired, ivy-eyed Hungarian girl was blushing up a storm at her mother's excitement. It really wasn't that big of a deal, not in her opinion anyway. "And I published that letter I wrote about Omega's rights," she found herself saying, before her eyes widened and regret washed through her stance. The happy laughter and joy bubbling out of her mother immediately drowned, leaving nothing but a serious expression in their wake.

"You did what?" she said slowly, her voice making a surprising shift to a quiet, covert whisper. "I'm going to have to get your father, aren't I? Elizaveta, we talked about this! You cannot make such large jumps in places. That is not how these things work." She was scolding, harsh, but necessarily so. Her daughter was going to get herself killed, and mateless, if she kept along this downward slope.

"But _Anya_, it's not fair!" she complained loudly, only to receive a harsh cuff around her ear in response.

"Etel!" called Aranka, her troubled eyes roaming over her pretty, stubborn daughter. "Etel, come here!" she called again after a minute or two of no reaction.

The female alpha marched into the room, a look of disgruntled impatience garnishing her face. "_Istenem_, what is it?" she snapped, looking around the room. Her agitation quickly melted, however, at the sober expressions of her daughter and mate. "What has happened?"

"Your daughter got the letter she wrote published in the paper," said Aranka in response, her eyes cutting submissively to the floor. She knew that Etel was about to get very angry, very fast, and she didn't want to challenge an Alpha when they were particularly incensed.

"You did what?" said Etel, turning to her daughter with gritted teeth and hazel eyes that held a seething pit of disappointment, anger, and frustration.

"Elizaveta! We explicitly told you not to do such a thing! I thought I raised a good Omega, one that can defend herself, but knows when to be deferential," she was being rather tyrannical, she would own that, but she had to. She was the Alpha of this household, and her Omega daughter was not listening to her. "You could get this family killed, Eliza. What were you thinking, you stupid, stupid girl," she hissed, now beginning to pace. "I'll have to see what I can do with the school to smooth any ruffled feathers over. I can't help you with your friends, though I'd be surprised if you had any after this fiasco," she sent her a quick, disapproving glare, interrupting the younger Hungarian girl as Elizaveta tried to interrupt and defend herself.

At Elizaveta's broken, shame-filled expression, she softened. "_Drágám_, I know you meant well. I know that you are trying to make a difference in the world, but you can't. You are an Omega. I don't want you to be a demure, boring little thing, but you can't change this world. You just can't." She shooed her off. "Now, get up to your room. Your mother will bring dinner up to you. Oh, and I'll be having your phone," she held out an expectant hand, waiting until her reluctant teenage daughter plopped the heavy metal rectangle in her anticipatory palm.

Once her daughter had disappeared up the stairs, the dark-skinned, female Alpha turned to her mate, tugging Aranka into he arms. "I don't know what to do with her," she mumbled, pressing her nose into her mate's hair to help calm herself down back to the earlier, neutral levels. Aranka's caramel arms wound around her mate's torso as she pushed her face into her shoulder.

"She'll learn. Our girl is special, Etel. She's going to have to learn how to blend in. Oh, and she decided to accept Gilbert as her mate," she said suddenly, saying the last sentence as quickly as possible so as to get that particular piece of information out-of-the-way. Etel froze before sighing and finally releasing Aranka.

"I suppose that calls for two family dinners, doesn't it? One with his parents, and one with us. I wonder how the Beilschmidt's are reacting to our little girl's letter. Not very well, I bet." Aranka's chuckle was the only answer she got to that, before her mate returned to the dinner that she was preparing, and Etel, after dropping a kiss to her mate's lips, returned to her office.

When Gilbert got home, things were a little similar, and a little different. His father was pissed, as he seemed to always be these days, and his mother was worriedly wringing her hands together, her icy blue eyes gazing with a great deal of concern at her puffing mate.

"The insolence of it all! Gilbert, you still want to pursue this Omega?" snapped the tall German, his long yellow hair tied back in a ponytail that slid down his muscled back. Gilbert nodded his head slowly. "The nerve…" and with that, Alfher had slipped into German. Gilbert chose not to stick around for that, preferring instead to go up to his room.

When he passed Ludwig and Feliciano's bedroom, the room they would be residing in until they moved into their own apartment or house, he was greeted with the awkward sight of watching Feliciano drawing a sleeping Ludwig. He paused there, loitering in the doorway, watching the lines and shapes spiraling out on the paper that Feliciano was using. No doubt the boy would transfer it to some pretentious tapestry, paint it, and then have it framed for their future home. But it was a nice looking drawing, all the same, not even Gilbert could deny that.

Feliciano had been growing on him the past few weeks, brightening up the generally dour, intense atmosphere of the Beilschmidt home. Yes, there were times when Gilbert wanted to punt the Italian right back on over to the Vargas household, but he was getting more tolerable. His drawing skills were phenomenal, and secretly Gilbert hoped that Feliciano would draw him one day before he left with Ludwig to his new life. But he was much too macho to ever specifically ask for a portrait, so he eventually moved on to his room, collapsing on his bed, and flipping onto his back.

He'd tell his father about Elizaveta when the man cooled down. It would be a bad idea to bring anything up now. But he was itching to tell someone. He couldn't tell Ludwig because A) The boy was asleep, and B) He would tell Feliciano, who would be unable to keep his blathering mouth closed and would consequently tell the entire school. His friends were out of commission until the following Monday, as his phone was still father's possession. Apparently the training room debacle wouldn't be forgotten very easily. But at least now, he'd quelled a bit of that crazy Omega rights side of Eliza. He'd gotten her to agree to being his. It was a start of a very long journey, but he was sure he could win this war.

Both the Hungarian and the German, but secretly believing himself to be Prussian, boy went to bed that night with full bellies and aching hearts. They wanted to see each other, and they wanted to go back and change things they'd done in their past. But there is a reason that people say you must look towards the future, because if you're not careful, the past will repeat itself.

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Hey, so what did we think? Leave a review, if you like doing that. If you don't, then that's totally cool too. I'm generality too chicken to leave reviews too, so I have no right to judge any of y'all who prefer to read and smile and laugh in your own world. xD

I hope all of y'all enjoyed! The next chapter will be up in a week.


	8. A Dinner at the Beilschmidt's

Back in sooner than a week! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm trying to figure out where exactly to take this story, but I'm kind of stumped right now. If you've got any ideas, feel free to PM me.

**Guest- **I know what you mean. I do too, but I can't have her do it too quickly, you know? Every Civil Rights Movement takes time, and it gets a ton of opposition. It's just how society reacts to change. This is going to take an extremely long time, as these rules have been around for forever. Naturally, she'll feel guilty about what she did because she'll be shamed for it. Even the most radical of a group of people has a few doubts in their minds when they do something particularly racy, or out-there. But I promise, things will start changing 'round here!

Enjoy this! Thank you all for your comments.

_**I love you all**__**.**_

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**A Dinner at the Beilschmidt's**

_"A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you."  
_

_**―Elbert Hubbard**_

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As Halloween drew near, the school began to release flyers advertising a school dance. When Gilbert found one of the handouts, he fairly whooped in the hallway, jumping in the air with his fist pumped. He'd been dying for a dance along this sort of theme, anything to dress up in fantastic costumes. And the Omegas who are in charge of the dances, one of the only positions of power open to an Omega in the school, had answered his call.

As he sprinted off, alive and jittery with adrenaline, to find Eliza, the flyer slipped out of his hand, floating slowly to the tiled floor of the Alpha hallway. On it, was written the following:

**Calling all countries to our Halloween dance of 2013, dress up, and play your part as the personification of the country you so adore.**

**Be in the gymnasium at 6:30 on October 25, Friday night for a fabulous preamble to the most anticipated night of the year, Halloween.**

A pumpkin was stuck to the middle of the flyer, leering up at the viewer in an attempt to impart creepy cheer. The school was buzzing by the end of the day, exclamations of 'I'm going to be Latvia!' or 'I call Denmark!' zipping about the hallways. Laughter and chatter was everywhere, and the debacle from the previous week involving Elizaveta and her equal rights letter had practically been erased.

Gilbert, upon finding his future mate, had swept her into an overenthusiastic hug, spinning her about as he buried his face in her shoulder, his arms looped under hers. He was laughing, and judging by her lack of complaint, she was well aware of what he was so pleased about. When he finally put her back down, she gazed up at him, her green eyes shining, a small smile quirking her mouth.

"I'm guessing that you found the flyer?" she asked, the words tripping off of her tongue in sharp, succinct syllables. Gilbert's response was an even wider grin before he swooped down to kiss her, catching the Hungarian by surprise.

"Bless you, _Engel, _I did!" he chirped, pulling away just enough to press his forehead to hers. "Which country are you going as?"

"Hungary," she replied automatically, her tiny smile slowly growing into a larger beam, leaching off of the enthusiasm that Gilbert was leaking. "And you? Although I think I can already guess…" she trailed off, letting Gilbert have the joy of crowing the obvious country that he would want to be to the ceilings.

"I am going as the awesome country of Prussia!" Gil said, with all the gusto that Eliza had expected.

"The dance is in a couple of days, you do know that right?" she asked him, her fingers moving of their own volition as they worked through the hair that was sticking up at radical angles on the top of his head. His jittery hands had mussed up what had been a nice enough hair do earlier in the day.

"Psh, the awesome me is so ready for this awesome dance," he said, waving his hand in an assured way.

Elizaveta rolled her eyes, dry sarcasm in her next few words. "Ah, yes, how could I forget that the awesome Gilbert has been waiting for this for weeks."

Her faint insult flew over Gil's oblivious head. "I'm too important for you to forget anything about me, my darling mate," he responded, laughing and kissing the scrunched spot between her eyes as she glared at his term for her.

"I'm not your mate yet, let's not forget that, _idióta_."

Gil shrugged. "Your heat is coming up in a week or so. There will be no doubt who you belong to then," he told her, his voice receding down to levels that were smooth, even for Gilbert's rough voice. Whenever he got excited, as he had been not two seconds earlier, that husky voice would start cracking, unable to keep up the waves of cheer that Gilbert was trying to coax from it.

Eliza's mouth dried, her throat working for a moment before she scoffed and pulled out of Gil's arms, which were still wrapped comfortably about her waist. "Nonsense. I'm not 'yours,' Gil," she said, putting little quotation marks around the 'yours.' "I will be your mate, your equal. Not some silly little possession." She sniffed and turned her head to gaze at the milling students. She could feel Gilbert's disapproving stare, and sense his impending retaliation, but she didn't plan to stick around for it.

"Well, Roderich agreed to walk me home, so you have no obligations to this afternoon." She stood on her tiptoes, pressed a quick kiss to Gil's lips, and slipped away before he could say anything in protest to her being with the insufferable Austrian.

With his previously good mood severely dampened, he looked for some other way to entertain himself. His father's restrictions were slowly loosening, leaving him room to breathe and spend a bit of time doing things after school. His red eyes alit on Francis and Matthew. Slowly, he meandered over to the two, his hands stuffing themselves into his pockets.

Matthew seemed to be struggling to get an idea across in an angry fashion, his fists clenching at his sides, his face pinching, but the same soft tone streaming out of his taut mouth. Gilbert could tell that Francis was having a hard time deciding whether he wanted to laugh or keep a straight face. Gil was pretty sure that the latter would work more in his favor than the former.

Sliding next to his French friend, Gilbert leaned his head on Francis's shoulder, his white hair brushing against the man's cheek. The Frenchman absently reached up to brush his fingers down Gilbert's hair, smoothing the rogue strands down. The two were unusually close, but it was so unheard of for Alpha's to be in a romantic relationship that no one really went there with their assumptions on them. Gilbert doubted that he'd ever admit to the fact that he'd slept with Francis on more than one occasion. And the same could be said of Antonio. Basically, the trio had all gotten a little friendlier with each other than 'just friends' would define.

Tuning into the conversation, he vaguely managed to figure out what it was about. Matthew was angry with Francis for not telling him about his past with other Omegas and Betas. Francis was insisting that he was just ashamed, and that he hadn't touched anyone but Matthew since he'd met the Canadian. But Matthew, justly, wasn't having any of it. Gilbert couldn't help the hitch to his mouth as Francis successfully and adroitly dug himself into a hole. It was quite stunning, really, the speed at which he managed it. Matthew went to slightly upset to trembling, and then to just flat-out leaving the conversation within the span of five minutes. Francis was swearing frustratedly under his breath in French as Gilbert chuckled, his head still placed on his friend's shoulder.

Glaring at the insolence of the German boy laughing at him, he rather cruelly pulled at Gil's white hair strands, earning himself a satisfying yelp from the injured person. Giving him a smug grin, and being gifted a huffy glare in response, they both simultaneously turned to find the missing member of their trio.

It didn't take long. One only had to follow the angry hissing of Italian to quickly find their unfortunate Spanish friend. Neither of them could understand Italian, but body language was more than enough. Lovino was irritatedly beating off every one of Antonio's affectionate gesture. Gilbert truly felt bad for the Spaniard, seeing the pain reflecting in those large, green, generally happy eyes. He could hear Francis shuffling uncomfortably next to him, clearing his throat.

But before either of them could do anything, Lovino seemed to have a radical change of heart. His hands fisted into the Spaniard's shirt, clenching the soft fabric. Their faces were then pressed together, lips on lips, and Francis and Gilbert rather quickly decided to abandon their friend to the passions of love. It took Francis a bit to turn away from the scene, a bit smidge of urging from Gil, but eventually they were on their way.

Walking down the close to empty halls, they both mulled over their own days.

For Francis, things had started out okay. Matthew had warmed up a bit that morning, even approaching him, and muttering something about meeting him at lunch. The rest of the day was a painful waiting period until lunch, and then he managed to make some form of ground over both of their cafeteria turkey sandwiches. The only thing that really puzzled Francis was the sweeping change that took over his Canadian Omega at the end of the day. They'd gone from laughing, and joking, and hesitant touches to Matthew suddenly starting to snap at him, his round face flaming with straining anger. And then Gilbert had walked in, and Matthew walked away not long after that.

Gilbert's day had been perfectly fine. Well, almost. It had been a week since Eliza had accepted him, and they were getting into more and more arguments about Omega's places and Alpha's places in a relationship. Eliza tried to take control more than Gilbert wanted her to. It was a constant tug o' war of power between the two, and unfortunately they were both fairly headstrong. But that morning she'd been sweet, and obedient, and had allowed him to initiate a kiss. Their familiar routine swung easily into sequence, with Gilbert walking her to her classes. At lunch, she allowed him to take her tray, something she'd been fighting against with a savage determination all week. She sat very close to him, her head resting on his shoulder once she finished with her lunch. She didn't ask to go to the training room with him to train. She was perfect. Until that passing comment at the end of the day, but he could pardon small slights like that. Without his realizing it, Elizaveta was slowly, slowly changing his perspective.

"So which country are you going to be, _Franzmann_?" asked Gil, breaking their mulling silence.

"Ah, France_, bien sûr_!" Responded his friend, perking up considerably from his previously dour mood. But then again Francis was always tuned into anything that directly involved himself. "And you, _mon ami?"_

"Prussia, obviously," stated Gilbert with a bland intonation. "I am Prussian after all."

Francis scoffed, but didn't bother debating the issue.

"So, what's to do today, hm?"

"Oh, _je ne sais pas_. It is up to you, _vraiment." _Responded his friend, scuffing his feet on the sidewalk as they finally stepped into the light of day, leaving the dank halls of their school building.

"Well, if you must say that the awesome me can choose, than so be it. Let's go get ice cream," he said quickly, without requiring any thought.

Francis looked surprised before an affectionate, wistful expression took over. "Ah, do you remember when we'd go out to get ice cream every day after school?" he murmured, the aching tone of nostalgia clogging his voice.

"_Ja,_ and I also remember that you were a huge fan of red velvet because it, 'is the color of passion.'" Mocked Gil, grinning teasingly at his friend. They'd fallen into their familiar pattern of comfort.

"Ah, not so fast their, Gilbert. I do believe that you were fond of birthday cake because, and I quote, you 'were so awesome that every day might as well be' your 'birthday.'" Laughed Francis, grinning playfully at Gilbert's scoff of un-acknowledgement.

"Well, let's not forget Antonio's. What did he like again, gelato something? I remember because he always said it reminded him of Lovino."

Francis hummed in response, his attention only half taken as they stepped into the ice cream shop, the little bell over the door ringing to announce their arrival. The Alpha that ran the shop grinned over at the two, setting down the rag he was using to clean the counter to lean his elbows on its polished surface and peer at the two twelfth grade boys. "Well, I say, it has been a while since I've seen the two of you," he said, his vaguely Italian accent peeking out from beneath the tanned skin, brown eyes, and brown hair of his exterior. Sighing, Gilbert finally remembered that his father had specifically asked him never to go to the ice cream joint again because the Alpha who ran it, Romulus, was Feliciano and Lovino's grandfather, and rumors floated around that he was off his rocker. Every now and then he'd break into random songs, a phenomenon that would make Feliciano laugh, if the Italian happened to be around, but would have everyone else vaguely concerned and considering different homes to place the crazy old man in.

Sucking it up, he managed a smile. "Ah, you know, high school," he said, waving his hand vaguely in the air to indicate some nondescript answer. Romulus just raised an eyebrow at him and stood straight.

"_Beh_, what would you two like?" he asked, a merry twinkle hidden in those half-crazed, half-wise eyes.

Francis stepped eagerly forward, shouldering Gilbert out-of-the-way. "I'll have red velvet if you don't mind," he stated, gazing eagerly at the viciously red ice cream behind the glass. Gilbert feigned gagging, earning himself a punch from Francis. The frenchman received his ice cream and paid for it in record time.

It was then Gilbert's turn, and he stepped forward and ordered the birthday cake ice cream. As usual. He wanted to reconnect with something in his past, get a little of that old stability and confidence back. Elizaveta, though he was fond of her, shook him up in more ways than one. He needed to calm his frantic nerves.

Romulus put together and handed over the ice cream to Gilbert, who paid rapidly as well. Afterwards, the duo bid the Italian man adieu and departed the little shop, licking languidly at the frozen foods.

"So what got Matthew whipped into such a frenzy?" said Gilbert finally.

Francis sighed and recounted his day up until that point. "…and then, I don't know what happened. One minute, he was content and was even letting me hold his hand, and then the next he was upset with me!" he was obviously still dismayed about the scenario, even with the temporary distraction of red velvet ice cream in his hand.

"Francis, do you think he's nearing his heat?" asked Gilbert randomly, recalling a month ago when Elizaveta had gotten strangely volatile.

Francis bristled. "What does it matter to you?" he snapped, his protective Alpha instincts snapping awake.

Gilbert backed away from the prickling Alpha, his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "I'm just asking because Eliza's like that around the time of her heat. Jesus, no need to get so affronted," he complained, eventually walking back over to his friend once he'd calmed down.

Francis looked sheepish. "_Mes apologies_, Gilbert. I should not have done that," he said, one of the only Alphas who was actually capable of apologizing. Gil was faintly impressed and surprised at this more submissive side of Francis.

"Since when did you start apologizing? That is so un-awesome," he stated, as articulate as ever.

"Mathieu," stated Francis with a dreamy smile. "He has opened my eyes to several things, Gilbert. You must open yours too, if you hope to keep a hold of your spitfire Omega," he half-teased, half-warned.

Now it was Gilbert's turn to bristle. "And what do you mean by that? Are you thinking of trying to take her away from me?"

"_Mon Dieu, _I would never," defended Francis immediately, licking nonchalantly at his ice cream once more. "I am just warning you, _mon ami allemand._ She will not hang around forever."

With that, they parted their separate ways, Francis going left and Gilbert right.

Stepping into his house, Gilbert peered about at the clean, pristine place. It was nothing like Eliza's comfortable atmosphere, or Francis's ridiculously overdone home, or even Antonio's cultural environment. Gilbert's home was sparse, clean to a T, and very simple. His father loved it that way, his mother was fine with it, and his opinion didn't matter. Nor did his brother's, for that matter. Not that Ludwig looked to be the type to want anything different, an issue that Gilbert was sure the younger Beilschmidt would have with his Vargas mate in the near future. The Vargas's were very far from sparse, and simple, and clean. They were just as cultured as Antonio, rich in history.

Sighing, Gil slid his backpack to the ground, continuing to eat his ice cream as he walked into the living room, snagging the landline from its place on the side table by the sofa, and throwing himself across the piece of furniture. Quickly, he dialed Elizaveta's number, waiting impatiently to hear her voice, or at least her father's or mother's so that he could speak with her. But no one picked up.

Crinkling his brow, he set the phone down on his stomach, polishing off the rest of his ice cream, and clicked on the TV. He didn't have anything better to do at the moment, and it looked as if he had the house practically to himself. He could only assume that his father was off at his job as a swordsmith, his mother might be asleep in the master bedroom, and Feliciano and Ludwig were no doubt home hunting.

As the stupid show involving what appeared to be a sponge and a starfish flashed across the screen, Gilbert let his eyelids slide shut, and before he knew it, he was waking up, a good three hours after he'd first lain down.

His father was standing over him, a disapproving frown hardening his face.

"Gilbert, why are you napping?" he reprimanded, pulling the twelfth year boy up by his arm. Wincing, Gil pulled his arm out of Alfher's grip, shaking the numb skin. He had rolled over at some point in his sleep so that the arm had sandwiched itself beneath him, and it was just now waking up along side its owner.

"Because I was tired," Gil replied, giving his father a deadpan expression before stepping away from him. "So I'll just be going up to my room now," he said, hoping against hope that his father would have nothing more to say to him. But, unfortunately for Gilbert, he hadn't wished quite enough.

Gilbert Beilschmidt, you get over here. We're having guests, and you need to get more presentable than that. In addition, pick up your backpack. Yes, your mother may clean this house, but that doesn't mean that you need to make any more of a mess for her than is necessary." Growling huffily, Gil turned, scooped his backpack up and was halfway up the stairs before he paused and looked behind him.

"Question," he said, one finger raised, "who's coming over?"

"The Hédérvarys," said his father before disappearing into the kitchen where Gil's mom was, presumably, cooking.

His heart now going a good bit faster, Gilbert ran his way up the stairs and threw his backpack against the wall, winging the closet doors open. It was about seven o'clock now, and though that did still give him a good three hours before their meal started, he wanted to look his best.

His ruby eyes scrolled through the different hanging outfits. He knew that this would be a formal affair, so there wasn't too much concern about being overdressed. Reaching forward, he tentatively ran his fingers over a suit. It was a little more casual than a tuxedo, thank God, and it would do perfectly. It was a misty gray one, with a light blue shirt and brown belt and shoes to go with it.

Once that decided, Gilbert went over and pulled out some of his homework. It would be tedious, but he could manage it. Hopefully. Sighing, he buckled down to the task.

About an hour or two later, he was putting the papers up, dumping the pens and pencils back in the front pocket of the backpack, and skidding over to his closet. He took the suit from the rack, understanding that he was now a little pressed for time, as it was 9:45 and he'd found out earlier from his father that they were to come over at 10:00. But he could manage it.

Within about ten minutes, he was clean and ready to go. The suit fit him perfectly, making a nice line across his broad shoulders and complimenting his generally pale skin nicely, making it look at least a little darker. Straightening himself in the mirror, he disappeared down the stairs, shutting the door to his bedroom behind him.

When he got to the main floor, a bouncing, jabbering Feliciano greeted him. Groaning, and already feeling the faint traces of a headache, Gilbert shoved his way past the over-excited Italian and made his way into the kitchen, where delicious smells were fairly wafting out the door. Slipping up behind his mother, he attempted to reach around and snag a piece of the freshly baked bread that she had out cooling, but his hand was effectively slapped away at the behest of a wooden spoon. Yelping, and now nursing an aching hand, he backed away from the food, ignoring the fond smile gracing his mother's lips as she looked proudly over her strong Alpha son.

Deciding to abandon the very aggressive kitchen, Gilbert succumbed himself to a few minutes of pain. Ludwig was trying his best to get Feliciano to calm down, but to no avail, and though he threw apologetic looks at his brother, he found no forgiveness in those eyes. Only annoyance and a _You'd better find a house soon._

Right about the point where Gilbert was pretty sure he was going to commit a murder, the doorbell rang. Springing to his feet, he called an 'I'll get it' before heading over to the door.

Pulling it open, the Prussian boy's eyes first landed on Elizaveta. And he had an awfully hard time pulling them away and opening the door further so that she and her parents could enter the house. His father greeted them, but Gilbert said nothing, his eyes immediately gravitating back towards his Omega.

Elizaveta looked stunning in an intensely blue strapless dress. A ribbon of a slightly lighter shade was tied around her waist, ending in a perfect little bow on her right side. Her hair glossed and curled, makeup applied strategically, and a pair of light blue heels to match. Those heels raised her closer to Gilbert's height, and the boy took the opportunity to bend and kiss his mate-to-be.

After a moment, and an awkward cough from Ludwig, the two pulled apart. Elizaveta tsked at Gilbert before turning to smile softly at her Alpha's younger brother. "Ludwig, it's nice to see you again," she said, turning her green eyes to the Italian boy sitting practically in Ludwig's lap. "And you, Feliciano," she said, laughing as the excitable Omega jumped up and twirled happily about.

"_Buonasera_, Elizaveta!"

"_Guten Abend_," said Ludwig, his voice a good deal calmer than his mate's.

Elizaveta laughed, letting Gilbert guide her over to the sofa in the living room. She sat down where he gestured her, and then he took a seat next to her. Automatically, they both reached for each other's hands and entwined fingers, Gilbert's thumb resting over hers, and rubbing gently up and down the soft skin there.

"So, Ludwig," initiated Elizaveta, "have you and Feliciano found a house yet?" she knew that she was being perhaps a little bold by not leaving Gilbert to ask the questions, but she didn't care. Ludwig looked surprised and gave his brother a suspicious look before responding to her.

"Ah, not quite, Miss Hédérvary. We're still looking, but I'm sure we'll find it someday." Elizaveta nodded, not bothering to correct Ludwig using 'Miss' with her. He was always so formal.

Finally, she turned to talk to Feliciano, something more appropriate for an Omega to do, and let Gilbert and Ludwig make their own conversation.

By the time dinner was ready, she'd gotten Feliciano to agree to paint her a portrait of Gilbert, and then one of herself, and then one of them together. The Eleventh year Omega was really just too happy to please most people, even though Gilbert terrified him, as most things did.

The four of them had been called to the dining room, and a fantastic array of food greeted them. Mrs. Hédérvary's food accompanied Mrs. Beilschmidt's spectacularly, so there was an array of German and Hungarian adorning the center of the table. It had Gilbert salivating at the sight. A small bowl of pasta had been put off to the side for Feliciano, as the Italian wouldn't enjoy meals without the mandatory pasta.

The eight people settled down, conversation nonexistent for an awkward few minutes of the dinner. Food was served, picked at, eaten, and picked at some more. Finally, Elizaveta's father spoke up, her voice ringing across the silent space.

"Mr. Beilschmidt, I am to correctly believe that you are content with our children being mated?" she asked, aware that she was doing this in an unnaturally public setting, but not much caring. Alfher's eyes narrowed at the lack of formality, but he couldn't blame the female Alpha for long. There was merit to bringing something so serious up in front of the family. It gave a bit more of a consensus, even though there were only four Alphas at the table.

"Yes, that would be a correct presumption, Mr. Hédérvary, but please, call me Alfher. We're going to be in-law's soon." He tried, and failed at making a joke. His countenance was too serious. Ludwig shared this unfortunate lack of experience at making a joke.

Etel managed a wan smile. "Yes, call me Etel, if you don't mind," she said. Gilbert was peering between the two older Alphas with the amusement of a twelfth year in his eyes.

Elizaveta saw this laughter and had to hide her smirk by bowing her head so that she was looking at the table.

Once that conversation was over, things were a bit more easily breached. Gilbert's attention was one hundred percent focused on his Omega, and vice versa. Alfher and Etel continued speaking about their children's future, Aranka and Amelina had shallow conversation about the latest gossip, and Feliciano and Ludwig successfully wrapped themselves up in their own little world, though this may be more in part to Feliciano complaining about there being no more pasta than it would be to real, deep conversation.

"How many children would you want, _Engel?" _asked Gilbert, pushing his finished plate away from him to place his elbows on the table and lean closer towards his soon-to-be.

Elizaveta paused a moment, sipping at her glass of water, thinking. "I think that one or two would be a good number," she said, noticing Gilbert's nose wrinkle. A sigh came over her as she reversed the question back to the Alpha.

"Well, I think three, or maybe even four would be perfect," supplied Gilbert.

Elizaveta coughed, wheezing and pounding on her chest."Excuse me? I'm the one giving birth to them, not you," she said, her audacity making Gilbert want to strangle her.

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad," he reasoned, but she wasn't having any of it.

"Respect my wishes, Gilbert, and I might be open for a compromise," she snapped, not budging in her stance against three or four children.

Gilbert glowered at her, not wanting to have to compromise with an Omega. But Elizaveta's stoney expression had him eventually moving towards that option.

"Fine, how about three?" he asked her. She shook her head. Growling, he took up his own water-glass and took a sip to calm his seething nerves. "Two."

Elizaveta's eyes brightened. "See? That wasn't so bad," she patronized, reaching forward to pat the top of Gilbert's hand. The moody hood to his eyes vaporized at her touch.

The rest of the dinner passed in much the same way, questions about their future being posed and answered. Elizaveta was content with a smaller house. She wanted to have at least one pet, and to be able to hold a job after the children were grown.

Gilbert didn't much care what kind of house they had, so long as it was more welcoming than his current one. He wanted a German Shepherd and a bird, if they were going to get pets, and he was adamant that Elizaveta not hold a job.

Things got tense right about there, but the dinner ended, so they couldn't continue their argument for much longer after that. Which was bad, because if they both had time to sleep on it, things weren't going to go in a very positive slope.

Closing the door behind the Hédérvarys, Alfher gave Gilbert a wan smile before taking his wife upstairs. Aranka and Amelina had cleared the table and cleaned the dishes before the former had left, so the chores were done. Gilbert went up to his own room, debating on whether or not to call Elizaveta and try to get her to listen to him. Deciding against it, partly because of his pride and partly because of his laziness, he rolled over and went to sleep.

* * *

So, ahem, what are we feeling? Too fast? Too boring? Too slow? Comment! Let me know what you think! I promise I'll try to implement your ideas or suggestions.

Au revoir, mes amis.


	9. Open Eyes

And my last update for a week or so! Yay! xD

I hope y'all enjoy this chapter, I really had no clue where I was going with this.

**BlackWitchesCat- **Thank you _so much_ for bringing that to my attention. What you caught actually helped me form a bit of a plot for this chapter, so thank you. You made a fabulous point. :3

**vellymymare- **Aw, yay! I'm glad that I was a good introduction into the AU of Omegaverse. There are some really awesome ones out there, you should definitely look for them.

_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. *gasp*_

* * *

**Open Eyes**

_"There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment." _

**―Sarah Dessen, _The Truth About Forever_**

* * *

The days ticked down for the Halloween dance.

For Gilbert, each day was practically a century. In part, because his father was not in the slightest pleased with the fact that he'd compromised with his Omega, he'd been regrounded as punishment, and a bit because it looked like he might be forced to end his engagement with Elizaveta, and finally because he was really excited for the dance.

Walking into school the day after the Beilschmidt dinner, he pulled Elizaveta aside. This was something he really didn't want to do, but having been chewed out by his dad on it, he didn't have a choice. "Eliza," he said, his voice that ever-existent gravel, "I will decide how many children we have." She opened her mouth to argue, but he growled warningly. "Don't fight me on this." He snapped, watching the flash of fear and then hurt spark in her eyes. Guilt ate at him, and he eventually stormed away, a mess of confusion. Why did he care, now, what she thought? There was a time when what Omegas considered to be right and wrong didn't affect Gil in the slightest. There was a time when he knew for a fact that he was going to be the only one making big decisions in his family lifestyle.

And then he'd found Eliza, and his point of view perhaps changed.

Needless to say, she was pissed after that. She didn't want to talk to Gilbert the rest of the day, even going so far to press his buttons by sitting next to _Roderich._ Gil was pretty sure he'd never wanted to kill a Beta more than he did during that lunch period; watching Eliza laugh and place her hand on the other boy's upper arm. Seeing her giggle and run her fingers through his hair.

Gilbert was so busy seething that he didn't notice his friends exchange glances and scooch slightly away from him. He barely discerned the mark adorning Lovino's neck, with Antonio the proud Alpha next to him. He didn't see Francis doting after Matthew like he was the Omega in the relationship. He was conscious of none of this because _his _Omega was busy flirting with some stupid Beta. A stupid Beta with a bit of a snobby attitude.

Only Alphas were really allowed to flirt with other Omegas or Betas around their mates. It was forgivable because they are _Alphas _and it's not like they can control themselves. It's not their fault that they can't ignore the next attractive Omega to catch their eye. However if an Omega flirts with another Alpha while he or she is mated to a living one, than there will be hell to pay, both for the Omega and for the Alpha or Beta that he or she is flirting with.

Elizaveta had wormed herself into that situation, and their future was very possibly in jeopardy.

When Gilbert arrived home from school, Alfher could immediately tell that something was wrong with his son. He could smell it steaming off of the boy's skin. "Gilbert," he said, calling the white-haired Alpha into his office, "what happened at school today?"

Gil threw himself into the chair in front of his father's desk. "Elizaveta, actually," he groaned. Alfher waited patiently for his slightly egotistical and dramatic son to continue. "She was flirting with Roderich right in front of me the entire day, father. That's all she did, and all because I told her that I would be making decisions for our future from here on out." He griped.

A thrumming of fingers along the solid wood of the desk echoed through the quieter space. It was a dangerous sound, like a clock ticking. Alfher was displeased.

"Well, that's something we shall certainly have to take up with her parents, isn't it? If she isn't willing to respect your control of her as her Alpha, than we will simply have to find you a new Omega. And we will be sure to spread about that Miss Elizaveta Hédérvary is not a suitable or proper Omega for any Alpha."

Gilbert was alarmed, and he tried to protest his father's plan but was silenced by a raised palm. "Gilbert, don't question me on this. I understand what kind of Omegas we will accept into this family. Elizaveta will not be one of them if she doesn't shape up."

Gilbert hesitated. "_Vater_, let me talk to her parents." He spoke up, holding his breath as the man cast his gaze judgementally up and down his son's body. "I can handle them. I _know_ them. I know how her father thinks. I was the one who arranged this thing, I need to be the one to call the shots. I need to assert myself, _ich bin ein Preuße_." His father scoffed at Gilbert's last sentence, but it was undeniable that he saw the logic in his son's calculations. It would make a lot more sense if Gilbert talked to Eliza's father than if he did.

"Very well," Alfher said at last. "But if you don't handle this efficiently, than I will be forced to step in."

Gilbert swallowed and nodded his head before turning and leaving, maintaining a straight back and an upright profile the entire time. The hardest part of this ordeal would be speaking to Eliza's father.

Snatching out of his front door with a coat hung in the crook of his arm, Gil began his walk over to Elizaveta's house. He ran through what exactly to say as he crossed streets and bounced on his toes at stop lights, waiting for them to turn red so that he could cross safely. He put the coat on somewhere along the way, the collar moving up to touch his ear lobes as he pulled his shoulders in on himself. He wasn't feeling like this was the best idea, but there was no other option. As a fellow Alpha, hopefully Eliza's father would respect that. Etel shouldn't have too many qualms with his demands.

He took a deep breath before using the door knocker to rap twice on the boring brown door in front of him. A minute passed before the door was pulled open.

But instead of Aranka or Etel answering the door, it was Eliza.

Gil's heart hit the floor.

"Ah, _hallo." _He said, German slipping through his voice like water. He was nervous, and didn't really know what else to say.

"_Helló_," said Eliza, giving him a strange look. Gil swallowed, a nervous smile on his face. Then Etel appeared behind her daughter, pressing a kiss to the top of Eliza's hair and shooing her up the stairs. "He can't see you this way," she hissed warningly after the girl, indicating to Eliza's not-so-covering pajamas.

Once Elizaveta had been forced from the picture, Gilbert was made to look at Etel. And the Alpha seemed to know that the Prussian was here for some serious conversation. "Into my office, then," she sighed wearily, gesturing for Gil to lead the way.

Gilbert did, walking into the room he'd been in a couple of months ago and taking a comfortable place in the chair. Etel sat on the other side of the desk, her fingers crossed to form a basket for her to rest her chin on.

"Why are you here, Gilbert?"

"Elizaveta, actually." Said Gilbert, getting straight to the point. "She isn't acting how an Omega should. For instance, she was flirting with a Beta at lunch today, well aware that I could see her actions."

Etel didn't give an obvious reaction to this piece of news. "What did you do to call for this revenge?"

Affronted, Gilbert didn't respond immediately, casting his eyes to a dark corner of the room to find something of distraction. "I told her that I would be making the decisions in our relationship." He finally said, not understanding why he was so ashamed. It was perfectly normal, custom even, for an Alpha to do that. He turned those hellfire eyes to meet Etel's cool brown ones.

"Perhaps she decided that she wants more respect than that." The female alpha shrugged, taking a sip from a glass of brandy that was sitting on her desk.

Gilbert's eyes narrowed. "That's not an Omega's place, and we both know that. _Mein Vader_ will not accept her into my family if she doesn't shape up."

Etel's eyes flashed a hard amber. "Than perhaps you should start searching elsewhere, for my daughter will not change just to fit into an overly conservative family such as yours. She is perfect, and if you cannot accept that, than you'd best move on."

Silence.

"I can't."

Etel felt a small smile. "Than maybe you should think about who is more important to you; Eliza, or your family." Gilbert watched her a moment before Etel made a gesture. "Go up and check Liz. I'm sure she's dying to see you, and you both have some explaining to do."

Standing and giving a slight bow before exiting the room, Gilbert was left with a dilemma. He loved his family, dearly so; Ludwig was his brother and one of his best friends; Feliciano was growing on him, a splash of color in an otherwise bland life; his father, though he was harsh, would fight for him any day of the week; his mother adored him, and pride was always loud in her eyes when she looked upon her eldest.

Could he leave them?

It took a bit to get up the stairs, and when he reached Elizaveta's door, he raised a hesitant fist and knocked. She pulled it open, much as she had done the front door, and seemed to read into his soul the minute her eyes landed on his.

When he leaned forward, she was there to wrap her arms around him, partially supporting his weight. When he buried his face into her shoulder, she was murmuring words of love and comfort into his ears, her fingers carding through the hair decorating the back of his head. When his shoulders started to shake, she was pressing a kiss to his cheek and pulling his head so that she could rub the tears away with the pads of her thumbs.

And that was when Gilbert realized that a relationship worked both ways. One had to lean on the other for support. Without the other to help, the love wasn't there; affection didn't exist; there was no respect. That was why he'd never seen or heard his parents doting on one another. He'd always just assumed that they were more sheltered with their affection, but maybe it wasn't that at all; maybe it was because the love wasn't there in the first place.

Slowly, they both sunk to the floor in the doorway of Eliza's room, the Hungarian girl's arms still wrapped securely about Gilbert, warding off the coming demons.

She was crying now, her thinner shoulders shaking in time with his, her legs bent beneath her, but his hands were soon pulling her into his lap, his arms wrapping securely about her; like a blanket. To keep away the monsters, but knowing that he couldn't keep away all of them, because that would mean that he'd need to keep himself away.

They were both sorry, that could be read into angles of shoulders and tenderness of touches. Fingers flitted over wet cheeks, lips danced across quivering lips. They were rediscovering each other; hopping into a new relationship together with faith that neither would let the other fall.

Gilbert fell asleep at Eliza's house that night. They were both resting on her bed, with his future mate curled into his embrace. Their faces were close together, his feet stretching out past hers on the bed. He watched her as she slept; creepy, though it may sound, but reassuring to himself. She was safe. She was his. He was hers. They were each others. A smile came across his face, one that had never been seen adorning the awesome Gilbert's lips. It was one of complete and utter adoration. He would walk to the ends of the earth for this Omega, and back again.

Yet even as he ran his fingers over the strands of Elizaveta's hair that stretched out over the mattress of the bed, Gilbert knew that this wasn't permanent. He couldn't just leave his family like that. He'd have hell to pay when he got back home-he was still grounded after all-but he didn't know what to do. He'd have to talk to his father, see if he could change the man's mentality towards Gilbert's treasured Eliza. If not, his life was about to get a whole lot more difficult, because he wasn't considered an adult yet. He was only sixteen. On January 18, he would celebrate his seventeenth, and then finally, a year later, he would become an adult with his eighteenth. But until then, he was his father's ward; his father's child.

He woke up the day of the dance to the sound of a camera going off. Blinking groggily, one eye resting open while the other was more than happy to stay shut, he saw a giggling Eliza holding a freshly developed photo in front of him. It was one of him sleeping. Glaring accusingly, he plucked the photo from her fingers, put it on the nightstand, and pulled her onto the bed with him, both arms wrapped around her waist. Eliza laughed, gleeful and content with her new situation. Gilbert respected her. She was now his equal. She pressed a kiss to his nose before working on sliding away from him, but not before he took a morning kiss from her.

"Gilbert," she scolded playfully, "we do have to get to school, you know. I'm not in heat, so we don't have an excuse to not be there." She could read the Prussian's mind as the boy groaned in response, sitting up in bed and running a hand through an already fiercely intense bed head. Eliza's eyes softened with affection and she moved forward to press kisses to each of his closed eyelids. "Come on, let's get some breakfast in you. And then we're going to have to get to your house so you can get your clothes and outfit for the dance tonight."

Gil obligingly let Elizaveta guide him down the stairs, her fingers meshed with his as she careened down. Arriving in the kitchen, Gilbert was greeted with a sight that had him shifting uncomfortably; he may have accepted his feelings for Eliza,but that didn't mean that he could change what he thought was right and what he thought was wrong in one night, and this most certainly wasn't right. Aranka was at the stove, cooking, and Etel was helping, reading instructions from a booklet and looking helplessly to her mate for guidance.

Gil looked, wide-eyed over at Eliza, and got a reassuring smile in response. "This is a different kind of system, _jóképű_, you'll be okay," she squeezed his fingers reassuringly before walking in and getting a kiss on the cheek from both her mother and her father. Etel and Aranka then turned to Gilbert, welcoming smiles on their faces.

"_Jó reggelt_, Gilbert," said Etel, gesturing for him to take a seat at the table. "We're almost done with breakfast. I'm afraid I've slowed my darling mate down in my attempt to help her in the kitchen," she shrugged in a what-can-you-do gesture before turning her attention back to Aranka. Elizaveta took the seat next to Gilbert, her legs resting in the Prussian's lap, her right shoulder pressed against the back of the wooden chair she was sitting in.

The kitchen was nice, with a little island separating the dining table from the kitchen space. There were modern appliances; a stainless steel fridge, stove, and sink. There was a cupboard tucked back between the stove and sink, in a corner of the kitchen, that Gilbert was sure had plenty of food and spices in its hold.

Breakfast was served, and it was typical Hungarian fare, something Gilbert hadn't really tried before.

He wasn't disappointed.

There was some homemade bread placed on the table, cheese, and meat. A toaster joined all of it, plugged into the wall by a little socket just past the head of the table where no one was sitting. Aranka and Etel took the seats across from Gilbert and Elizaveta and they all began to eat. The little sandwiches that were created were called 'soldiers' and Gil was very fond of them. They were quick, easy, and delicious.

By the time everyone had finished and Aranka and Eliza had put the dishes up, school was close to starting. Gilbert and Elizaveta were going to have to run back to his house to get his stuff on time.

And they did. They practically sprinted that entire way back, Liz blowing kisses over her shoulder at her parents before scampering with Gil to the Beilschmidt house.

When the door was answered by his father, Gil just busted past the tight-mouthed German, knowing that he was going to be in for it but not really caring. Eliza stood politely in the doorway, the perfectly demure Omega, waiting for Alfher to let her in. Eventually, the blond-haired Alpha did, content with the way Eliza was acting, even if he wasn't pleased with how sweaty she appeared to be.

Gilbert got dressed in record time, snagged his costume from where it hung on a hanger in his closet, and was back downstairs before Alfher or Eliza knew it.

They were able to walk at a slower pace to school, with Gilbert's arm slung over her shoulders and hers resting on his waist in response. There was an easy-going nature to them now that hadn't been there before.

School passed bitingly slow. Romano was trailed by Antonio the entire day, the Spanish Alpha taking every opportunity given him to feather kisses upon his Omega, brushing his lips and teeth over the mark and growling with pleasure as the boy melted against him.

Gilbert and Eliza made a point to avoid them, and so did the rest of the school. It was kind of disgusting.

Francis was happier now that Matthew seemed to have gotten over his funk. They were on speaking terms once more, with Francis complimenting Matthew at practically every turn.

Mathias and Lukas were different that day as well. Lukas was less aloof than he had been in the past, initiating some contact with a nudge of his head or a brush of his lips. Mathias, surprisingly, didn't jump up and smother the Norwegian in enthusiasm, just gently and calmly responded in kind to each one of the other boy's gestures of affection.

Arthur and Alfred seemed to be butting heads more, however. Gilbert didn't know about what, nor did Elizaveta, but it wasn't pretty. Some of their fights spilled out into the hallways, not just in the abandoned classrooms that Arthur preferred. Alfred wanted the school to know what was going on, and Arthur didn't. A conflict of interests.

Gilbert accompanied Eliza home, kissing her goodbye at the door before swinging his outfit over his shoulder and meandering off to Francis's home. The three of them were going to get ready for the thing together, a completely Omega thing to do but oh well. They'd had sex, what could happen worse than that?

Gilbert didn't even bother knocking when he got to the elaborately carved door, just pushed it open.

"_Bonjour, Gilbert," _called Francis's mom from, presumably, the garden out back. She was big on plants.

"_Guten Abend, _Mrs. Bonnefoy!" called out Gilbert in response before popping off to his French friend's room. Francis was an only child, and his mother a single parent. She made do as the Omega in Francis's life, but she couldn't fill in the Alpha gap that the boy was missing.

"Francis! The awesome me has arrived!" called Gilbert, smashing into the room with awesomeness radiating in waves from him. He was cocky, arrogant, and in love; invincible.

Wrinkling his nose, Francis waved his hand in the air. "_Mon Dieu, _you smell like wet dog. Have you even had a shower?"

Gilbert shook his head, and was immediately shoved off in that direction.

While he was showering, he could hear the trill of Antonio's excitable Spanish voice dancing through the halls and into Francis's room, making Gilbert rush so that he didn't miss out on too much.

Gilbert returned to the room with a towel tied about his waist and another one being used to scrub his hair dry. The boys soon began to talk, like gossiping Omegas, about the men and women who'd stolen their hearts.

Their chatter carried them through the getting into outfits process.

Gilbert's chosen outfit to represent Prussia was actually more reminiscent of the Teutonic Knights, but that was okay, because the awesomeness that was the Teutonic Knights helped create the even awesomer country of Prussia. He had gray, skin-tight trousers with a white tunic over it, the tunic dropping all the way down to his knees. The fabric was then tightened about his waist by a black belt, matching the color of the Cross of the Teutonic Knights that adorned his chest. A cape rested about his shoulders, drifting down to mid-calf with another cross touching the corner of it. A skin tight, long-sleeved white shirt was beneath the tunic, helping him to cover more of the skin that the Teutonic Knights would have had covered. Small little divers were cut in triangles on either side of the tunic bottom, bordering Gilbert's legs.

Francis was wearing the French uniform from World War II, a fantastically overdone piece. It had alarmingly red pants, and a blue jacket or cape thing, with black boots. His blond hair and rather conceited Frenchiness only added to the regal splendor of it all.

Antonio, however, was wearing Spanish conquistador regalia. He had khaki trousers, a white tunic shirt that ended in froths of fabric at the sleeves, and a bright red coat over that with gold trimming, buttons, and white cuffs. A metal shoulder protector of sorts was encasing his right shoulder, a black ribbon tied about his neck, atop the collar of his tunic, and a burnt gold sash rested about his hips, with black boots attached to his feet. His brown hair and green eyes balanced the outfit nicely, along with that gorgeously tan skin. He was a sight for sore eyes, and Gilbert was pretty sure that Romano would be all over this Spaniard tonight.

Each of them had their chosen weapon that they fought with day-to-day gripped in their hand. Antonio held a hefty battle-ax leaning out from his body, the butt of it resting against the outside of his boot. Francis had a sword hung at his waist, resting comfortably in its scabbard that was cracked and soft from how often it'd been used. Gilbert's sword was in much the same place as Francis's With this all done, they were ready to go, and so they all departed, going their separate ways from Francis's house.

Antonio knocked on Lovino's door with a sharp rap, feeling remarkably attractive and confident in his outfit. When Lovino pulled the door open, he could see desire ignite in his Omega's eyes before being forcibly snuffed out.

Lovino was wearing World War II khaki. A brown belt marked out his waist from the bulkiness of his jacket, and his boots were just as dark. He had a button-down undershirt and a bunched, dark brown tie beneath the jacket, and he looked splendid.

Feliciano appeared from behind his brother, wearing the same outfit but in darker blue and with a black undershirt and blue tie.

Antonio escorted Lovino to the dance proudly, after his Omega kissed him and made sure to smother his scent all over him to let any sneaky Omegas know that this Alpha wasn't up for grabs.

Francis tapped lightly on Matthew's door, grinning as the boy opened it, those violet eyes glimmering happily at him. He was also wearing a World War II outfit, khaki, straight-ironed pants with what looked to be a lightly-tan fighter pilot jacket, complete with fur trimming, and two leather straps crossing each other on his chest and back. He looked magnificent, and Francis chanced a chaste kiss before leading Matthew away.

When Arthur arrived a little while later, he was wearing the British army uniform of the colonization period, around the 1600s-1800s. His uniform was red, with white lapels, gold buttons, and little slits to slide in any medals received. One white sash crossed his chest from left shoulder to right hip. Black cuffs were at his sleeves, and he wore black boots with white trousers, and all the vestments that made up the torso.

Alfred was wearing the American get-up of the Revolutionary War. His coat was blue, two bands were crossing each other on his chest, much like Matthew's outfit. He had the same accoutrements as Arthur. The two smiled shyly at one another and walked off to the dance.

Gilbert was bouncing on his toes as he waited for Eliza to open her door. When she did, he stood there like a deer in the headlights, his eyes absorbing every single inch of his Omega.

She was wearing a dark brown skirt that grew longer as it went back; a high-low. It was shortest when it hit her upper thigh, and lengthened until it got to her ankles in the back. She wore brown fur boots, a puff of assumingly faux animal hide peeping from the top of it and where the laces tightened the shoes about her feet. Her shirt, more like corset, was tight and left a small sliver of skin showing before the ties tightened the bodice more. It was a pale gray color, rimmed with black. She had a metal sheath, much like Antonio's, on her shoulder and her forearms, a tattered brown cape behind her. She didn't have a sword, and had swapped out her bright pink flowers for some silvery gray ones. She looked amazing, fierce, and delectable all at once.

And Gilbert did not want to let her go out wearing that. Stalking forward, he ran his hand along the arc of her neck, shivering at the smoothness of her skin and how low he could dip his hand before skin gave way to fabric. "_Jesus_ I can't let you go out like this," he murmured, voice smooth with desire. He wanted to mark her, could feel every nerve in his body begging him to do it.

But he refused to put Elizaveta in that sort of situation again.

Smirking, she raised an eyebrow. "Take me as I am," she replied, noticing that her future mate had to grit his teeth to keep from snapping at her insolence. Their path would be a long one, the ways of traditional Alphas pretty ingrained, but she had faith that he could change. He already had; he'd accepted her for herself.

"This is for my own mental health, but so be it," he grumbled, offering her his arm and leading them away from the house. Etel and Aranka said they wanted pictures of the two after the dance; an odd request, but one that Gilbert didn't want to dishonor. What Gilbert really didn't understand was why Etel was letting her Omega daughter walk out of the house like this. It was risky, especially considering the fact that other Alphas could take advantage of the girl.

Or maybe she just had faith in Gilbert to protect her daughter. Gil stood a little taller at the thought, proud and determined not to disappoint.

When everyone arrived at school, the fun really began. Countries were buzzing around, people dressed intoxicatingly in attractive uniforms from their homeland. Almost every country was represented, and it was delicious. People were using their own languages now, comfortable in traditional clothes, and even more so in their traditional tongues. Things were easygoing.

And then the teachers caught sight of Elizaveta.

* * *

Do y'all think I rushed it a bit? I don't know.. Hm... Well, comment, review, I adore each and every one of y'all.

I love you, my beautiful readers!


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